The Drop of an Apple
by mametsundere
Summary: When the young Prince of Spades accidentally drops an apple on a farm boy's head, the action sets off a rippling effect that eventually grow beyond the boundaries of friendship. Cardverse!USUK
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

". . . and still remains to be an important lifeline for the Four Kingdoms. In one instant, when the trading ports across the border of Spades. . ." The tutor trailed off, his face taking on an exasperated expression as he noticed that his young student was once again letting his attention drift away from the lesson. Sighing, he crossed his arms and called the boy out. "Your Highness, if you have the ability to doodle all over your paper, I'm sure you can put just as much detail and work into writing your notes."

The young Prince didn't even lift his head to reply and instead, continued to sketch away, his pencil working in a frantic motion. "But I already know all this stuff," he insisted.

"Really?" the tutor asked, unconvinced. "Then list the cities where the major trading ports are located in Spades."

The pencil stopped mid-stroke. Azure eyes lifted from the paper and sheepishly met the studying gaze of his tutor. "All of them?"

"Yes, all. You were assigned to memorize the names weeks ago, Your Highness." A smile tugged at the corner of the tutor's lips.

The boy pouted, not liking the smug tone in his tutor's voice. "I-I know that!" he blurted. His face scrunched up in concentration. "Um. . . I know for sure there's one in-. . . or was it at-. . . uh. . . or maybe it was-. . ."

"Having trouble remembering, Your Highness?" the tutor mused, interrupting the boy's muttering.

"No!" the Prince exclaimed in panic. His cheeks were already tinged with pink from embarrassment. "I know them, but. . . I just. . . forgot that's all."

Seeing the Prince's distress, the tutor sighed with a small smile, putting his hands up as if surrendering. "Alright, I suppose that'll be enough history for now. I know the good weather isn't exactly helping, so I'll let you finish early today."

The boy's face lit up like sunshine. "Really?" he asked, already bouncing in his chair.

Nodding, the tutor said, "Yes, really. Now go before I change my mind."

The Prince didn't need to be told twice. Grinning, he shouted his thanks, grabbed his books, and sprinted out the study room towards his chambers with new-found energy. With enough force to break the door down, the Prince barged into his room, threw his books carelessly onto his desk, and hurriedly changed from his royal attire into the loose clothing of a regular farm boy. Washing his face of any lingering sweat at the basin, the boy wasted no time climbing down the ivy outside his room's balcony and running into the forest towards the fields bordering the Kingdom of Spades.

Running up and over familiar hills, dodging large tree roots, and avoiding slippery moss, the Prince rejoiced in his time of freedom as he sped through the ancient forest whooping and laughing ecstatically, loving the way his speed made the wind comb back his light honeycomb coloured hair.

It was summer in the Kingdom of Spades and with the sun high in the afternoon sky the last thing the young Prince wanted was to stay indoors studying. Summer meant everything was at its finest, be it the weather, mood. . . or even magic. Faeries could be sighted more often and weapons of new designs would be traded in and out of Spades. Duels between magicians would be preformed out in the public and enchanting displays of magic were sure to make this year's festivals another huge success. Just thinking about it made the Prince tense in excitement.

He breathed in the forest air, thick with heat yet fresh with dew, loving the earthy smell. The sun peeking through the leaves seemed to glitter as the Prince occasionally glanced up towards the sky while he ran. As the forest thinned out, the Prince stopped at a small river cutting through the greenery. The slow water current reflected the sunshine in fragments of light, shining with more brilliance than the royal jewels. Still panting from the run, the Prince carefully skipped over the path of rocks in the river to reach the other side, finally arriving at his destination.

There, in front of another thin layer of forest, was a grand apple tree stretching several meters tall. Its branches were flush with leaves and decorated with beautiful, rosy apples in their prime. Already feeling his mouth begin to water, the Prince wasted no time climbing the tree to hunt for the biggest, juiciest apple of them all. Although it was going to be quite the challenge considering the tree's gigantic size, the Prince knew his stomach wouldn't be complaining for long.

* * *

"Mom, I'm back!" the farm boy announced while closing the door behind him. The warm, toasty smell of baking bread filled the air and he breathed in deeply, relishing it.

Said mother poked her head out from the kitchen to welcome her young son home. "Finished with the harvest for the day?" she smiled, dabs of flour smeared on her face.

"Yes, Mom," he answered, laughing at the sight. Using his forefinger, he pointed to his own cheek in the same spot his mother had flour on.

Taking the hint, his mother laughed and rubbed it away with her apron. "Go wash up, honey. There's still plenty of time left before dinner so go play for a while. . . maybe with the other children?" she suggested helpfully.

She watched her son's face expression fall and the vivid green of his eyes darken before they moved to stare at the floor. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight around uncomfortably. His mother sighed in sympathy, recognizing the silent answer. She knew her son wasn't exactly the most social boy around and that he preferred reading a book by himself under the shade or spending a day playing beside the faerie folk, but she really did worry about his ability to make friends. . . or lack thereof. "Did you at least try?" she asked.

He replied after a long pause, still not looking up at his mother. ". . . They made fun of my eyebrows."

The mother was relieved her son couldn't see as she cupped a hand to her mouth to stifle her laugh. "Are you sure they weren't just teasing?"

"They've done it a lot of times before and were really mean about it," he huffed back.

His mother walked towards him and gently lifted his head with her hands, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Now Arthur, are you really going to let one shallow statement stop you from making friends?"

Her son pouted. "But what if I don't _want_ to have friends? I don't need them if they're mean. I have the faeries to play with." However, his stubbornness shrunk away after seeing the stern look his mother was giving him.

Eventually letting out a soft chuckle, the mother used her thumbs to smooth over her son's eyebrows in a comforting way, a kind smile on her lips. "But I suppose you did the right thing. A true friend should never judge you by the way you look." Her son's face brightened at her praise and she planted a soft kiss on his forehead. "But keep trying, alright?"

". . . I'll try," he murmured back.

"Good boy," the mother said, gently tapping her son's lightly freckled nose with a finger. Despite all the sun he gets and the large amount of time he spends outdoors, the only evidence is a barely invisible pattern of freckles over his nose and cheeks. Somehow, he remained fair-skinned and untouched by the sun's powerful rays whereas the other children easily tanned. "Now go have fun and make sure to be back on time for dinner," she said, running her fingers through his hair. The colour used to be almost amber before the sun bleached it lighter. Now the shade reminded the mother of rolling wheat fields when they're basked in sunlight, similar to the ones just outside their house.

Giving his mother a grateful kiss on the cheek, he rushed back outside after a change of clothes, taking his notebook and pencil just in case he had the urge to distract himself from the thought of socializing. He ran down the dirt road towards the forest up ahead, a giddy smile on his face put there by anticipation. He couldn't wait to spend the late afternoon sitting in the shade of his apple tree by the river, munching away at the ripe fruit hanging from its branches. Excitement fueled his moving limbs despite being considerably tired from field work.

He slowed his run to a walk as he approached the edge of the forest. He always loved this place for its peace and secrecy. It wasn't a far walk from the edge of the greenery to the tree, but a clueless passerby would have no idea that a river and a giant fruit tree – able to provide for many families – could be so close.

Without hesitation, he made his way into the forest, carefully stepping over roots and sharp rocks hidden away by dirt and fallen leaves. When the tree came into sight, he couldn't help but smile to himself. Closing the distance, he picked off an apple hanging off a low branch and settled down at the base of the giant tree, not hesitating to take a large bite of the fruit. Sighing contentedly, he leaned into the trunk and looked up past the line of trees, catching the Spade palace in his line of sight. The palace wasn't exactly hard to miss due to its sheer size. Although some may say the size was a little much, it certainly matched the power of the Kingdom of Spades.

As the ruling power of the Four Kingdoms, Spades had the upper hand in military, trade, and economy. It wasn't a surprise that the palace would flaunt all aspects with its high defence walls and overall regal look. The flag of the Kingdom of Spades flew high and proud on the highest point of the palace, its golden symbol shining in the center of the flag's royal purple background for all to see.

He finally closed his eyes, relaxing in the warmth of the summer breeze; listening to the birds sing and the leaves stir. The running water of the stream nearby was like a lullaby. Arthur couldn't ask for more. Everything was perfect.

. . .

Everything was perfect, that is, until something hard dropped onto the top of his head. Letting out a yelp of pain, he instinctively brought his hands up to comfort the injury, dropping his apple in the process. Looking around for the source, his eyes eventually found it: a very large apple still in the midst of rolling away from him. Frowning in annoyance, he rubbed the sore spot on his head, trying not to cry out in pain as he brushed over the lump that was already beginning to form. He glared at the apple, but decided that it was too immature to blame the innocent fruit. After all, it was perfectly natural and ordinary for a tree to drop its fruits.

On the other hand, nothing was natural or ordinary about a voice that suddenly called out from above him. "Hey, you okay?!" The voice belonged to a young boy and was slightly higher in pitch than the injured boy still nursing his head. Startled, he looked up and all over, trying to find the source of the voice. He wasn't hearing things, right? The apple didn't hit him _that_ hard.

"Over here!" the same voice called out. This time, a boy jumped down from the high branches, covered in leaves and smudged with dirt. "Are you okay?" he asked again.

Instinctively, the injured boy examined the newcomer in front of him. His face was flushed (probably from doing whatever he was doing up in the tree) and his hair was slightly damp with sweat. He was slightly shorter, and despite the slight pudge on his cheeks, he looked like any other healthy farm boy that spent his days in the fields.

No longer in shock, the boy on the ground fumed, "No, of course I'm not alright! You just dropped an apple on my head!" Taking a good look at the boy's face, he took notice that he had the most striking blue eyes he had ever seen.

At the moment, those blue eyes were widened in defence. "But I didn't mean to! Honest!"

"You could at least apologize," he argued. "What if I got knocked out?!"

"But you didn't!" Then the boy frowned in confusion. "I don't have to say sorry if I didn't mean it," he protested.

That logic only made the injured one even angrier. "But it was still your fault the apple dropped!"

The other boy hummed, as if debating whether or not to surrender. But rather than saying anything, he turned away from the injured boy, picked up the fallen apple, and went back to him, holding it out. "How 'bout this? I'll share my apple with you instead of saying sorry since I didn't exactly do anything wrong," he offered with a wide grin.

The other huffed at the thought, slightly taken aback by the boy's stubbornness. "No thanks. I already have my. . . own. . ." He trailed off when he noticed his half-eaten apple lying in the grass, its white flesh covered with dirt. He had forgotten that he had sacrificed his little treat in the sudden assault from above. Looking back at the boy still holding out his apple, the knowing grin still on his face, he sputtered an excuse. "I-I'll just get another apple from the tree."

"But I got the biggest apple of them all!" the other insisted, waving the fruit in front of the boy's face. "I bet it's be the tastiest too," he said teasingly.

Feeling like the boy wasn't going to give up any time soon (and the giant apple in his hand _did _look rather tasty), the injured boy sighed and frowned, grabbing the apple from the other's hand. "Fine, but I get first bite."

The blue-eyed boy grinned and happily sat next to the other. The two passed the apple back and forth, devouring it until only the core was left. Both boys were left feeling quite full and very satisfied. During the entire time, the strange boy who had dropped from the tree kept blabbering on about the nice weather or how good the apple tasted or the food he ate this morning or anything else that caught his attention.

When there was finally a small period of silence, the green-eyed boy coughed out awkwardly, "So. . . who are you exactly?" Might as well get to the point, he thought. No use continuing to avoid it. Especially when he finally had a chance to speak after the other's rambling.

The other turned to look at him with a surprised look on his face, as if remembering that this was the first time they've met. "Oh, right! I forgot!" he said, a new smile stretching across his face. "The name's Alfred!" He stuck out a hand to shake.

The other boy took the hand somewhat hesitantly, not sure what to make of such formal actions coming from such a young person. "Arthur," he replied. Both hands were sticky from juice and tree sap but neither of the boys seemed to mind. Giving a small shake, Arthur let go and placed his hand back on his lap. "How did you find this place, Alfred?" he asked.

"What d'ya mean?"

Arthur hesitated. "Well. . . this place is hard for most people to find. I thought I was the only one who knew about it."

"This is my secret place," Alfred answered brightly, but his grin dimmed when he continued, "Oh, but I guess it's not a secret anymore since you found it."

Arthur stared, frowning a little after processing the information. "But. . . this is _my _secret place. I found it first." At least he thought he did.

"Nuh uh," the other pouted. "_I_ found it first."

"I. . . don't think you did."

"Sure I did!"

"No, you didn't."

"I did!"

"You didn't!" Arthur felt himself starting to lose control over the volume of his voice. Here he was finally spending time with someone other than faeries or his books and the relationship was already falling apart. Although Arthur doubted it really existed in the first place.

Alfred jumped up onto his feet, turning towards the other boy with his hands clenched. "Yeah I _did_!" He was just as stubborn and determined to win just as much as Arthur.

"Oh yeah? Prove it!" Arthur stood as well, not wanting Alfred to intimidate him by height. To his advantage, Alfred was the shorter boy and had to tilt his head slightly upwards to meet Arthur's eyes.

Hearing Arthur's challenge, Alfred had a mixed expression of horror and anger, his cheeks turning pink. "T-That's. . . That's not fair! I can't prove that," he whined.

"So I win," Arthur smiled triumphantly, crossing his arms in a content huff.

"No you don't! You can't prove that _you_ found this place first either!" Alfred accused, pointing a finger.

To Arthur's dismay, he knew Alfred was right. His brain scrambled for some way to retort back. "W-Well I'm older than you!"

"That doesn't mean anything!"

"Yes it does! It means everything," he argued back, frantically doing the math in his head. "I found this place when I was five!"

"So?" Alfred snorted. "I found it when I was four!" He thrust out his fingers for emphasis.

Arthur felt himself begin to smile. "So? How old are you now?"

"I'm seven!" the other said proudly.

"Well I'm ten. That means _I_ found it first," Arthur concluded happily.

Alfred's frowned, this time in confusion. "I don't get it."

"No, of course you don't," Arthur scoffed, too low for Alfred to hear. Then he explained, "Since I'm ten and you're seven that means I'm older than you. So if I found this place when I was five that means you were only three and you just said you found this place when you were four."

Alfred suddenly looked devastated. Biting his bottom lip, his watery blue eyes frowned at the ground between them and his hands were clenched so tight his knuckles were white. He was so quiet, Arthur thought he was going to cry.

Then Arthur was worried. The last thing he needed was someone tattle-tailing on him for being mean. It's not like he wanted to make the boy cry. He was just telling the truth! Defending what was rightfully his!

Arthur opened his mouth to say something in reparation, but before he could utter a sound, Alfred's eyes suddenly shot back up to meet his, a new fire burning in its depths. "W-Well I'm Alfred Franklin Jones, Prince of Spades! H-Hence, your arguments are i-invalid and. . . um. . . since these are _my_ lands t-this is _my_ secret place, so there!" He puffed his chest out and stood as tall as he could without lifting onto his toes, trying to look as imposing as a seven-year-old could.

He expected Arthur to be shocked and guilty that he had dared to challenge the royal Prince of Spades. He should have surrendered, shrunk back in fear, and apologized, begging for forgiveness. As for Alfred – being the forgiving, kind, and fair Prince that he was – he would grant Arthur forgiveness and let him return home safely, maybe letting the poor boy take a few apples if he felt merciful enough.

Alfred was already beginning to smile at the possible outcome when much to his dismay, Arthur simply snorted at his previous statement, looking unimpressed. "I thought your name sounded familiar, but I never thought the young Prince would be so. . ." he paused, ". . . so _weird_. And for your information, these lands belong to your father, the King. . . not you."

Taken aback, Alfred hotly said, "S-same thing! And what's weird are your eyebrows! They look like fuzzy caterpillars growing on your face!" He had frantically pointed out the first thing that came to mind, but he immediately regretted it when he saw a hurt expression flash across Arthur's face.

"They're not weird!"

"They totally are!"

"Are not!"

"Are too!"

"Are not!"

Alfred tried to change the subject. "I'll only say they're not weird if you take back what you said about _me_ being weird!" he persisted. In all honestly, Alfred didn't think they were strange at all. It had only been a passing first impression when he first saw Arthur's face. Not to mention, he didn't like making fun of people. It wasn't a very heroic thing to do. The knights and kings in his storybooks never made fun of others for the way they looked.

"But you _are_ weird!" Arthur sputtered. "Y-You smile all the time and talk too much to someone you just met and you're too loud and laugh too much and even your laugh is weird and-. . . and-. . . and-. . ." Arthur drifted off, trying to find more things to say but coming up short. ". . . and I just don't like you!" Standing there in the tense silence, Arthur felt his face heat up in embarrassment as he stared at the ground. "J-Just don't come back! This is my spot," he finished weakly. Turning away, he ran without looking back, leaving a dumbfounded Alfred behind.

Watching Arthur's back quickly disappearing into the forest, Alfred fumed. "W-Well. . . I don't like you either!" he shouted after him. But there was no indication the other even heard him. Stomping a foot into the ground, Alfred paced around with his eyebrows drawn into a frown and his cheeks puffed up in a pout. He had actually liked Arthur and thought him to be a new friend until their little dispute. Feeling angry and hurt at Arthur's words, the Prince swore to come again tomorrow out of spite just to make Arthur mad. He was then disappointed to realize his good mood was ruined and he no longer felt like lounging in the sun anymore. Picking one last apple off the tree, he was about to walk and cross the river back to the palace when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye.

Where Arthur had sat was a brown leather book, worn from use. When Alfred picked it up and opened it, he was surprised to see messy handwriting fill the pages. Every page was brimming with notes on plants, trees, flowers, and magical creatures. Illustrations of each were drawn alongside the writing; detailed pencil sketches of the different faerie species, unicorns, medicinal plants, and magical weapons decorated the boarders and empty spaces. Entranced by his find and forgetting his grumpiness entirely, Alfred hurried home, excited to continue reading.

For once, he thought, there was actually a book he _wanted_ to study.

* * *

"You're home early, dear," Arthur's mother pointed out when her son marched through the door, looking none too happy. "Did something happen?" she asked innocently.

Arthur studied his mother's expression then gave her a sour look. "Why ask when you already know?" he huffed, sitting heavily onto the couch.

Smiling knowingly, she set down the basket she was weaving and moved to sit beside her son. "Can you blame me for asking?" she said, laughing softly. "Besides, how can I deny my son from meeting the Prince of Spades?"

"He made fun of my eyebrows just like everyone else!"

"From what I could see, I think you got along swimmingly," she encouraged. "Best attempt you've made so far."

Arthur frowned. "That doesn't make me feel any better."

"Well it should. After all, I have a feeling you'll be seeing each other again soon."

"What?!" Arthur gasped in horror. "No! I never want to see him again!"

"Oh, but you'll meet again."

"Then I won't go back there," Arthur huffed stubbornly. "You'll probably know whenever I might see him, so I can just keep avoiding him. Just let me know when he won't be showing up so I can avoid him."

His mother narrowed her eyes. "Arthur Kirkland, listen to what you're saying. I may be a Seer, but I'm also your mother. You're being utterly ridiculous and unnecessarily childish, avoiding someone – the Prince no less – just because you don't like him."

Unable to retort back, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek and looked away, the knowledge of his mother being right testing his pride. ". . . I still don't like him," he huffed. He knew his mother had good intentions and that his reasons for not wanting to meet Alfred again were quite pitiful, but the thought of being close to someone so. . . _different_ wasn't an easy thought to process. Unlike him, Alfred was untainted by labour and shielded by palace walls. He never had to worry about money or getting enough food before the winter. And one day, not too far into the future, the title of King will be passed onto him. Sadness tinged Arthur's heart and his anger mellowed out into bitterness. Glancing over at his mother, he sheepishly asked, "So I can't avoid him?"

His mother smiled, her voice gentle when she shook her head and replied, "Your lives will become more entwined than you think. Even if I help you avoid him like the plague, Fate wouldn't allow it." She laughed good-heartedly and combed a hand through her son's pale hair. Arthur made a face, not understanding much of his mother's words and it made his mother smile even more. "Just give him another chance, alright?" she asked.

Grumbling under his breath, Arthur sighed a regrettable, "Fine," and stood up, offering a wry smile to his mother. "I'll go clean up before dinner."

Watching her son walk away, she called out to him when a sudden thought appeared in her mind. "Arthur?"

"Yeah?" His head peeked back around the corner.

Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes as she warned, "Be careful. Make sure to keep your powers hidden. You know what happens when you forget to keep them in check."

". . . Yes, Mother."

* * *

**Hello there!**

**Thank you for reading until the end! This is my first Hetalia fanfic so aside from being excited about writing I'm just as anxious about it. I'm a little rusty since it's been a while since I've written a fanfic so forgive me if some parts sound awkward. **

**Other than that, I hope you like what I've written so far and I would love to hear some feedback! I don't have a beta so let me know about spelling/grammar mistakes since they do tend to slip by despite my countless editing. **

**I'll try to update soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

That evening, Arthur was in a state of panic when he discovered that his notebook was missing. He tore through the house on a rampage and his room was a complete mess by the time he had finished looking through every corner and crack. Only when night time came and a summer rain began to fall did the boy remember he had left his precious notebook at the apple tree.

As much as he pleaded with his mother to go back outside and find it, she shook her head with a sympathetic smile. Gesturing to the weather outside, she reasoned with him and Arthur eventually gave in to temporary hopelessness.

The morning after, Arthur was restless all through breakfast and all through work. As much as he wanted to leave the fields in order to look for his notebook, he knew that even his understanding mother wouldn't approve of him skipping out on the harvest. It was how his family earned their share of food and to sacrifice it for the sake of a single notebook wouldn't be wise. . . even if the information in the book was rare and quite valuable.

The boy let out a pitiful groan as he looked longingly in the direction of the apple tree, mentally praying that his notebook wasn't completely ruined. All Arthur could do was slave away in the fields, anxiety uncomfortably digging a hole in the pit of his stomach as he impatiently waited for his shift to be over.

* * *

Alfred hadn't let go of the leather notebook ever since he woke up that morning and not even when the maids were dressing him. He clutched the notebook to his chest during breakfast, his morning lessons, and even when he took his horse out for a ride. His eyes were glued to the pages at any possible chance and on several occasions, the young Prince almost collided with several walls in his trance. If he ever needed to put it down, Alfred made sure it was just by his feet or no further than an arm's reach. His protectiveness of the notebook didn't go unnoticed by the palace's staff.

The young prince had stayed up way past his bedtime to finish reading the book and despite his efforts, he fell asleep with his hands still poised in mid page turn. Alfred had been excited to discover that not only did the notebook contain pages and pages of knowledge, but a small fraction of them were stories; stories a lot different than the tales Alfred were told by his parents and maids.

The knights and kings in this book didn't slay evil dragons. The two shared mutual respect for each other and coincided with one another, maintaining everlasting peace within the kindom. Unicorns weren't endangered because of illegal horn hunting. Instead, they were close to humankind and granted people rare magic for their good deeds. Dwarves didn't have to hide in the mountains. Rather, they maintained mineral trade between races because they weren't betrayed by the spread of greed and selfishness.

Despite his admiration for the notebook, Alfred had been shocked to see the name _Arthur Kirkland _written on the backside of the cover when he had hunted through the pages for the author. The older boy had seemed so unfriendly and uptight when they met. It was strange to imagine such a reserved boy having such a colourful mind. However, the thought made Alfred smile. Maybe Arthur wasn't so bad.

The sun was almost at its highest when the Queen went looking for her son to call him to lunch. She found him in the palace garden under the shade of a tree, reading the leather notebook once again. A fond smile on her face, she approached him, nodding to the guards standing under the archway in silent greeting. Alfred was so lost into the pages that he didn't even notice her presence until she sat down beside him on the stone bench and softly called out to him.

The boy jumped, despite his mother's gentle tone, and slipped away from his trance-like state. Blinking a few times, he grinned upon seeing his mother. "Oh, hi Mom! I didn't see you there," he laughed sheepishly.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, smiling.

Alfred hastily shook his head to reassure his mother. "Not really, nope."

Giving a thoughtful hum, the Queen looked down at the notebook still open on the Prince's lap. "So what's this?"

Alfred also looked down at the notebook. "It's. . . something I found."

"A book?"

"Kinda," he shrugged. "It's more like a journal with a whole bunch of random stuff, but it's really cool!" His blue eyes sparkled with excitement as he told his mother about the contents. The Queen listened attentively, her gentle features lightening up in genuine curiosity as Alfred flipped through some pages with her.

"These are beautiful," she remarked. "No wonder why you've been so protective of it this morning. Where did you find it?"

Now Alfred looked slightly uncomfortable and he looked away. "In. . . the library."

She gave him a doubtful look. "You're not lying are you?"

"O-Of course not!"

The Queen gave him a stern look. ". . . Alfred, that's two now."

". . ."

"Where did you find this, Alfred?" his mother asked again.

He answered hesitantly, ". . . In the fields. . . during free time. . ." Well, it wasn't a complete lie. After a moment of silence, Alfred let out a huff. "It's not fair. Why does it have to be you? I can't lie to you," he whined half-heartedly.

Satisfied that her son gave her a truthful answer, even if it wasn't the whole truth, the Queen laughed at her son. "I suppose it's simply because you're fortunate enough to have a Psychic for a mother." Alfred pouted, but it melted away when his mother combed through his hair with her fingers. "Come on. It's time for lunch. Let's go inside."

Alfred brightened. "Are you eating with us today?" he asked.

His mother nodded with a small smile on her face. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to do so recently."

"It's alright. You can make up for it today!" he chirped, causing the Queen to laugh.

But then Alfred grew quiet. He looked up at his mom, an uncharacteristically shy look on his face. ". . . And Mom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Do you think–. . . Can we actually–. . . Could we. . . maybe eat outside for lunch?"

"If you'd like," she replied with a smile. Alfred cheered and the Queen gathered her dress to stand. "I'll let the servants know and have a guard fetch your father." Nodding eagerly, Alfred turned his attention back to his book with a grin on his face, his legs swinging happily.

They'll finally be able to eat as a family again! He's always thought his father looked lonely sitting at the table by himself. . . well, during the rare times when the King actually comes to eat with his family. However, since the Queen hasn't been feeling well recently, her meals were brought to her room and that usually meant that Alfred had to dine alone. Hopefully, today would be different and it would finally return to the way things used to be, Alfred thought. What's more was that his mother agreed to eat outside! Being outside was supposed to be bad for the Queen, but if she agreed, that could only mean his mother was getting better and that was more than enough to make Alfred happy.

Hearing said mother call his name from the newly set up table for lunch, Alfred gathered the book into his arms and skipped over, happily sitting in the seat beside her. His eyes eagerly scanned the food laid out in front of them.

"Let's wait for your father, Alfred," the Queen chided upon seeing her son's hungry look and instead, raised the teapot in her hands. "Tea?"

But Alfred had no say in the matter as his mother poured some into his cup without waiting for his answer. Then again, she probably already knew what he was going to say the moment she asked and simply chose to gracefully ignore it.

Alfred let out a groan as he stared into the contents of his cup, the leafy smell of his tea already making his nose wrinkle up in protest. "I hate tea," he lowly grumbled.

The Queen laughed. "I know. But you'll learn to like it."

With the sound of footsteps approaching, the two royals looked up expectantly (and somewhat nervously on Alfred's part) only to see the Jack of Spades returning with the guard the Queen had sent and no King in sight. Although Alfred was slightly disappointed, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Things had always been awkward between Alfred and the King. They rarely had the chance to spend time in each other's company and even on the rare occasions when the King came for dinner there was only the sound of cutlery and awkward silence between them. Alfred had no idea how to act around his father, but naturally he wanted to impress him with his accomplishments. However, whenever Alfred faced the King, who had such a frigid, regal air, his confidence would magically disappear and Alfred would either shyly present himself to his father or give up entirely.

The Queen looked over at the Jack and he replied with a small, apologetic smile. "The King–,"

"–Had some urgent business to attend to?" the Queen finished, a wry smile upon her lips. Her baby blue eyes contained just a tinge of sadness.

Letting out a soft laugh, the Jack nodded and walked towards her with a letter in his hand. "He told me to give you this," he said, handing over the parchment.

The Queen took the letter as though it would explode upon pressured contact and thanked the Jack. Opening it, she mumbled under her breath, "So he has the time to write a letter yet he can't even drop by to see his family before he leaves?"

"I'm truly sorry, your Majesty."

She shook her head. "Oh Yao, you don't have to apologize for something you didn't do."

Alfred couldn't help smiling to himself upon hearing his mother's words. It brought him back to yesterday's incident and it reminded the Prince of the face he got in response from the other boy. It also reminded Alfred that he still had to return the notebook, currently resting on his lap, to its rightful owner.

"Do you find something funny, your Highness?"

Alfred looked up to see the Jack giving him a criticizing look; a look that showed that Yao Wang was anything but amused at the moment. But Alfred simply grinned and replied, "Nope. Not really." Yao snorted, and Alfred tilted his head to the side, staring at the Jack's face as if judging him. "You know, Yao, maybe you should find something funny to laugh at because you don't smile much, do you?"

The Jack sputtered, "I-I beg your pardon?"

Alfred nodded his head with a straight face, as if honestly feeling concerned for the poor, humourless Jack. "Yeah, I mean, smiling is supposed to make you happier and feeling happy lets you live longer!"

"And who says I'm not happy?" Yao demanded.

"Well that frown, first of all," Alfred answered, pointing to the Jack's face. Yao only scowled harder. "And second of all, the fact that you've never really laughed or smiled before!"

"I-I've smiled before!" the Jack tried to defend himself.

"How come I've never seen it?"

"You don't need to," he replied sternly, frowning again.

Alfred pretended to pout. "Aw c'mon, Yao! You'll get wrinkles if you frown so much!"

Yao Wang was the Jack of Spades and basically part of the royal family despite not sharing the bloodline. A loyal subject as well a good friend to the King, Yao practically raised Alfred. With his watchful eyes and guidance, he was the Prince's babysitter more often than not due to the King and Queen's busy schedules. The good that came out of it was that it made the two particularly close, but that also meant, much to the Jack's displeasure, that Alfred could bicker and tease him to no end despite the large age difference.

Yao sputtered some more, the tips of his ears turning red. He opened his mouth to retort, but was interrupted by the Queens sudden violent coughing, cutting the Jack off as well as shattering the good mood around her.

"Your Majesty!" Yao called out in panic, running to her side. The Queen was holding a hand over her mouth and her face was scrunched together in pain. However, she was waving with her other hand in attempts to reassure the Jack that it was nothing. Yao and Alfred could do nothing but wait, the Queen's hacking coughs shaking their hearts as if it was a terrifying storm.

When her coughing subsided, her voiced sounded strained when she spoke again. "Ah, I apologise for that." She cleared her throat and sipped some tea, sighing as she felt her throat relax.

"Are you okay now, Mom?"

The Queen turned to her son and smiled at his concern. "You don't have to make such a face, darling," she soothed, using a hand to gently cup his cheek. "I'm alright now, worry not."

Yao frowned, not convinced. "Wasn't it advised that you stay indoors as much as possible, your Majesty? It's not wise to dine outside so soon. You're condition has only recovered so much."

Dropping her hand from her mouth, she smiled at the Jack. "Well you see, Alfred wanted to have lunch outside today and I thought that since the weather was so lovely, it would be difficult to turn him down."

Yao shot Alfred a look, causing the Prince to shrink back into his chair. "So once again, the Prince is responsible for troubling you." Alfred looked away, feeling guilty.

However the Queen defended him. "It's really alright, Yao. It's not Alfred's fault. I suppose I should just be a bit more wary of my condition. I just overestimated myself, that's all."

"But he still holds fault if he's the one who suggested it! He needs to have a sense of discipline and responsibility or else he'll never understand the consequences of his actions," Yao insisted.

The Queen glanced over at her son who was staring hard at the book in his lap, looking as if he was trying not to cry. She sighed, resigning. "We can talk about this at a more appropriate time," she said, addressing the Jack. When Yao opened his mouth to protest, he was cut short by the look the Queen shot at him.

Instead, she turned her attention to the letter from the King on her lap. Her smile looked strained as she looked up at Yao moments later. "Thank you for taking the time to deliver this personally, Yao. As much as I'd like you to stay for tea, I suppose you should hurry back before the King comes looking for you." As Yao bowed in parting, she continued to say, "Tell my husband I'll speak to him tonight in regards to his letter."

A moment of silence passed between the Queen and Jack as their eyes met. "As you wish," Yao said after a split second of hesitation. "Good day, your Majesty. Alfred." He gave each a small nod before he turned and left.

"It's my fault, isn't it?" Alfred asked miserably once Yao's footsteps could no longer be heard. He looked up at his mother with teary eyes filled with guilt.

The Queen shook her head, giving her son a reassuring smile. "Don't take what Yao said to heart, Alfred. No one's to blame."

Alfred gave her an unconvinced look, but said nothing.

His mother gave a little sigh, changing the topic. "Well, since your father won't be able to join us for lunch, we'll just have to enjoy it without him. Eat up so you can prepare for your afternoon lessons."

Alfred gave his head a little nod, feeling slightly happier once the option to eat opened up. After a few moments of silence, he asked, "So what was in Father's letter?"

"Nothing you need to worry about, Alfred," the Queen reassured. If only he knew better, he would've heard how her words were clipped and tight. However Alfred just nodded at his mother's answer, thinking nothing more of it. He was too busy thinking about Yao's words to notice the sorrowful look his mother was giving him as he ate.

* * *

After Arthur was done with the daily harvest, he wasted no time getting to the apple tree. No longer caring about the possibility of seeing Alfred again, the farm boy hurried along, his anxious heart beating wildly in his chest for the safety of his notebook. Reaching the tree, his heart sank heavily when he noticed that his precious notebook wasn't where he remembered it to be and that only his pencil, half-buried in the dirt from the rain, remained. Practically in distress, Arthur searched the area with intense focus, sweat beading on his forehead from sheer panic and fear.

After several long minutes of seeking the book out of every possible hiding place, Arthur stood dumbfounded beside the stream, staring into its moving water feeling empty and lost. What on earth could have happened to it? Even with the storm, it couldn't have travelled far. Arthur secretly hoped some local faeries had found it, recognized it, and took it into shelter, but he would've gotten a notice by now and none came. It couldn't have simply just got up and walked away. . .

. . . Wait.

Realization suddenly dawned on the boy as he recognized just how likely it was that the book _had_ moved. Not on its own accord, of course, but by the hands of someone else; a certain Prince that had left after Arthur did.

The rustling of leaves and shrubbery across the river broke through his thoughts and movement caught his eyes. Lifting his head, he met sky-blue eyes peering curiously at him from among the greenery, albeit a little shy.

Alfred stepped out into the clearing and approached the edge of the river, clutching Arthur's missing notebook to his chest. The Prince gave the other a little smile. "These are really good, you know?" He looked down at the notebook fondly. "I hope you don't mind that I brought it back home with me yesterday to read."

Under normal circumstances, Arthur would've been overjoyed at the praise, but instead, he felt like his privacy had been violated. No one had been allowed to touch his notebook let alone read its contents. "So _you_ took my book? And you read it too?!"

Alfred had a panicked look on his face after seeing how mad Arthur was. "I-I didn't know it was yours! I only realized after I started looking through it!"

"Then why didn't you give it back after you realized?!"

"Because it was raining last night and I don't know even know where you live!"

Silence settled in and Arthur bit back a response he didn't even have. Although he hated losing arguments, he would not be made a fool of a second time. So he kept quiet and tried to regain his wit and patience as he stared down the Prince, however his hands remained tightly clenched by his sides. "F-Fine. . . you win this time. Now give it back to me already." Arthur held out a hand.

Alfred nodded and began to cross the river with a somewhat hesitant look on his face, as if he was debating whether or not to actually return the notebook. Seeing his expression made Arthur worry that Alfred might change his mind, so he didn't continue his accusations and stepped back to let the Prince have some space. But Arthur didn't hesitate to confront him the moment Alfred was on dry land. "Well? Hand it over," he said, holding his hand out for the book.

Alfred glanced down at the book he was holding with a reluctant look on his face. Looking back up at Arthur, he gave a little sigh and a little before handing it over. "Okay. Here ya go."

Arthur blinked and took back his book, a little stunned at Alfred's lack of resistance. "Um, well. . . I. . . guess I should be thankful you took this with you then. . ." Arthur mumbled while staring at the book. He could feel his grudge against the Prince start to fade, although somewhat reluctantly. The boy almost felt a twinge of guilt for the resentful feelings he previously had towards Alfred. When he glanced up and saw the Prince's expectant, blue eyes and small, patient smile, Arthur blushed and stubbornly looked away, trying to find something to look at other than the younger boy's eyes. "B-But I won't say t-thank you since I didn't ask you to bring it home with you! I-It's really your fault f-for taking it without my permission. . . even. . . even if you did. . . keep. . . it. . . dry. . . S-So don't expect me to–!"

Arthur cut himself off, seeing how Alfred had burst out into laughter. The farm boy's blush only deepened in colour. "W-What's so funny?!" he demanded hotly.

Alfred tried to calm his giggles, but the moment he saw Arthur's face he lost control again. The older boy's face was blotched from his blush and his cheeks were slightly puffed up in a pout. His thick eyebrows were drawn down in a frown and it accented the confusion and anger in his glowing, green eyes.

After several attempts to get the laughing Prince to answer his question but to no avail, Arthur gave up. "Ugh, never mind then," he huffed angrily. "You can laugh until your breathing stops for all I care. I'm leaving!" True to his word, Arthur turned on his heels to leave, feeling embarrassed and quite confused. He certainly didn't find anything comical about what he said so he couldn't understand what was making Alfred laugh like a madman.

"No! Wait!" Alfred cried out, his little body still trembling from spurts of giggles. "Don't go!" He ran up to Arthur, an apologetic grin on his face. "I'm sorry for laughing like that, but seriously! I've never seen anyone have so much trouble saying thank you before! And it was so funny!"

Arthur sniffed, not amused. "Well I'm glad I was able to humour the Prince of Spades," he said sarcastically, "but now, if you would excuse me, I'll leave you to continue your laughing fit in peace." He began to march away, still slightly wounded, when he felt a small hand grab his wrist. Arthur turned instinctively, only to see Alfred's eyes, wide and pleading.

"No, please don't go!" he asked. "Won't you stay?"

Arthur frowned, confused. "Why should I?"

"Because I want you to stay!" When Arthur's expression didn't change, Alfred looked away bashfully, his voice lowering. "It's just that. . . I didn't have a chance to finish reading your book so I was wondering. . . if you could. . . maybe read it to me?" Seeing Arthur's startled look, Alfred quickly added, "Or just let lend it to me for a little while longer so I can finish reading it?"

Arthur stared at the Prince with a mix of emotions. Although he was still upset at the fact that Alfred had read the contents of his notebook, the feeling was pitiful compared to the new feeling of pride and happiness that was budding in his chest. Seeing Alfred's hopeful look only made Arthur's resolve to continue disliking the Prince crumble even more than it already has and furthermore, Arthur was very well aware of the fact that Alfred gave his wrist a little pleading squeeze as the silence continued.

So Arthur let out a little sigh before giving his response, looking away in embarrassment. "No, there's. . . there's no need for you to take it back to the palace again." When he looked up into Alfred's clear blue eyes and saw fear in its depths, Arthur surprised himself when he felt himself smile; a small, timid smile, but a genuine one nonetheless. "I. . . I'd be happy to read it to you, if you'd like." Witnessing Alfred's look of surprise followed by a blinding expression of pure joy, Arthur blushed and sputtered out, "B-But it's not f-for your sake! I just don't want you taking it again in case you ruin it, okay?!"

But Alfred didn't make any indication that he heard the older boy's explanation for he seemed to be too busy smiling his heart out. Arthur hadn't expected such an overjoyed reaction and was quite baffled. What dumbfounded him even more was when Alfred dashed forward to hug him like they've been best friends for months chanting, "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" It certainly wasn't a reaction you would expect from a person you've hardly known for two days, but there Alfred was hugging the breath out of him.

Before Arthur could respond, Alfred let go and skipped over to the base of the apple tree. "Let's sit over here! It has the best shady spot and it's the easiest place to grab apples, you know, in case we get hungry. Oh! And after we finish reading, could you explain more about the White-Scaled Dragon? The drawing was really cool, but I didn't really understand some of the things you wrote about it. And it was really hard to read some parts of the book because you know Arthur, your handwriting's not the neatest, but that's okay! Mine isn't neat either according to my teachers so we can be messy handwriting buddies! Oh, oh! Then there are the pages about _magic _and those looked _really_ awesome!"

Alfred continued to rant on and on and on and Arthur couldn't decide if the Prince was talking to him or to himself. Arthur felt himself smile, wider this time, and laughter bubble from his stomach. Having such rowdy company would take some getting used to, but Arthur felt himself beginning to enjoy the Prince's active personality despite claiming to only prefer the company of quiet woodland creatures and peaceful faeries.

He cleared his throat and tried to suppress his excited grin as he called out to the ranting Prince. "Just sit your damn arse down so we can start already!"

The Prince finally stopped his babbling and turned to Arthur, giggling, "Ooh, Arthur said a bad word!"

"Oh hush, Alfred. That's not nearly as bad of a word compared to some others," Arthur smirked, approaching Alfred.

At that, Alfred's eyes grew comically wide. "Really? There's worse?!"

"Of course there is."

"Tell me!"

"No."

Alfred pouted. "Why not?!"

"Well I wouldn't want the Prince of Spades to go around swearing because of me. Besides, you'll probably learn one day or another without my help."

"Aw c'mon!" The Prince puffed his cheeks out and sat down in a huff, crossing his arms dramatically.

Seeing such over-exaggerated behaviour only a boy Alfred's age could pull off, Arthur did the last thing he thought he would ever do with the Prince: laugh. Before he could stop himself, Arthur gave a little snort which soon turned into giggles and laughter. He wasn't used to laughing so freely with anyone other than his mother, so feeling slightly self-conscious, Arthur used a hand to cover his grin as he laughed until it subsided. Sitting down beside the Prince, Arthur cleared his throat and allowed a small smile to remain as he asked Alfred which page he wanted to continue from.

But Alfred was still hearing Arthur's laughter echoing inside his head with a somewhat half-dazed, half-surprised look on his face. It was such a warm, natural sound and Alfred found himself wanting to hear more of it. Alfred had thought Arthur didn't know _how_ to smile until a few moments ago, but now that the Prince knew how good the other looked with one, he was determined to see it again.

"You should laugh more often," Alfred said before he had the chance to stop himself.

Arthur looked startled at the sudden comment, cutting himself off from whatever he had been saying. "W-What?"

Alfred felt himself blush, shocked that those words managed to slip from his brain and out of his mouth. But now that it was out, the Prince stammered to continue. "Y-You have a nice smile!" he blurted. "So I was just thinking that you should smile more!" The Prince thought back to earlier that afternoon when he said those similar words to Yao. Alfred found it strange how differently he felt saying those words to Arthur and only later did he realize it was because he genuinely meant it.

Arthur's vivid green eyes were wide as they looked into Alfred's azure ones, the Prince's blatant honesty making the silence turn awkward. Alfred watched as Arthur's cheeks quickly coloured and as he began to sputter incoherent words in attempts to respond.

Unable to form proper words, Arthur looked away to burn a hole into his book, his fingers fidgeting along the edge of the cover. "A-Are you an idiot or something? You don't just suddenly say that to someone out of nowhere! Especially someone you've only just met."

"We met yesterday though," Alfred pointed out.

"B-But still! It's. . . improper. . ." Arthur continued to absent-mindedly fidget with the pages, his cheeks a brilliant pink.

Although Alfred still felt slightly embarrassed at his little slip, he remained stubborn and stared at Arthur's profile, trying to get the other to look into his eyes so he knew he wasn't lying. "Well I'm not taking it back."

Indeed, Arthur met his eyes but he was alarmed to see such determination illuminating from the Prince in staying true to his word. The boy was too honest for his own good! But as much as Arthur hated to admit it. . . he was happy, albeit a little embarrassed and put on the spot by the sudden compliment.

Arthur turned back to the open book on his lap, determined to keep his cool. "You. . . really are an idiot," he said, lacking any bite. It almost sounded like he was saying it fondly, but of course neither of the boys knew any better.

Alfred noticed that the tips of Arthur's ears had turned red so he said nothing more about the subject. However, he also noticed, no matter how much Arthur was trying to hide it, that Arthur was smiling once again.

Smiling contently, Alfred shuffled closer to the other boy and pointed out the page he had left off on. After Arthur gave the Prince an earful for dog-earring the page, the two read away the remainder of the afternoon, adjusting comfortably to each other's company.

* * *

**Oh wow, I did not expect this much support after one chapter, but needless to say I'm overjoyed! You guys are fantastic, thank you so much!**

**I was hoping I'd get this chapter done within a week, but school and life can be quite the bother. But hopefully, I can keep this up! **

**Again, let me know if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading and to those who reviewed! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Hey Arthur, have you actually met all these faeries and things so you could write your notes?" Alfred asked one day. The boys were lying under the shade of the apple tree, their shoes and socks removed to dry their wet feet after playing in the river.

Without turning away from the clouds above him, Arthur frowned and replied, "They're not _'things'_, Alfred. But no, I haven't met every creature in my journal."

"Aw, and I thought you've actually seen a dragon."

Arthur snorted. "Then I would've been killed on the spot. Did you learn _anything_ from my notes?"

A few days had passed since their first encounter, and meeting up under the apple tree (_their _apple tree, they had eventually agreed on) became part of their everyday routine. The two would spend their time eating the fruit, reading through the little details Arthur had written in his journal, and chatting away the afternoon about magic and mystical creatures. It was a period of bliss for both of them.

Stretching, Arthur yawned and placed his hands behind his head to cushion it. "No, I get all my notes from other magical beings who've lived far longer than I have."

The Prince sat up and turned to face Arthur with eager eyes. "Which magical beings?"

"Faeries, brownies, goblins, a unicorn, nymphs," Arthur listed, mentally turning the pages of his notes in his head. "To list a few."

"That's so awesome!" Alfred grinned. "Do you think you could introduce me to them sometime?"

Arthur glanced over at the Prince for a moment before staring back at the sky, now with a small, thoughtful frown. "I. . . guess I can let you meet some faeries or nymphs. The brownies and goblins don't really like too much company and I've only met the unicorn once and have no idea how to find him again."

"Oh sure, faeries would be cool!" Alfred was beaming with excitement but Arthur's frown didn't let up. Alfred gave him a curious look upon seeing that his excitement wasn't mutual. "You're. . . not happy about it?"

"It's not that I'm not. . . happy about it," Arthur replied, sitting up and staring at the grass in front of him. "I'm just wondering whether or not it's a good idea."

"Why wouldn't it be? I get to meet faeries!"

The other boy groaned and shot the Prince a look. "Yes, I know, but being able to _see_ them is the hard part."

Now it was Alfred's turn to frown. "I thought everyone could see them."

"Well, yes and no. Most people would only be able to see balls of light or something move in the corner of their eyes, but to actually _see _what they actually look like and _talk _to them. . . you would have to enter a faerie ring."

"A faerie ring? Oh, you wrote about something like that in your journal!"

Arthur gave him an unimpressed look. "Yes, and do you remember _what_ I wrote?"

The Prince touched a finger to his chin. "Hm. . . something about dancing and singing?"

"Of course that's the only thing you remember," Arthur scoffed. "But it's not bad considering all you're really interested in are dragons and Attack Magic," he continued sarcastically with a smirk.

Alfred pouted. "S'not my fault they're so cool. I mean, sure, _everything's_ cool, but dragons are cooler. And Attack Magic is, like, the only thing interesting out of all my lessons. At least I'm learning something."

"Well, whatever. You clearly forgot that I wrote that faerie rings are dangerous."

"Why? Because of the dancing and singing?" Alfred snickered, but Arthur knew it was no laughing matter.

"Yes, actually," he sternly replied.

"But what's so bad about that? Isn't that the fun stuff?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but then again, he couldn't really blame the Prince. It wasn't his fault he was so clueless. "Think about it. How would you feel if you danced all day and all night without stopping?"

Arthur suspected his explanation wasn't scary enough since all Alfred did was grin more. "Pretty awesome!" he exclaimed. "My parents never let me go to any of their parties so dancing all day and night would be so much fun!"

"That's not what I meant," Arthur sighed. He turned his body to face the naïve boy. "I mean, you could be dancing for days, maybe weeks if the faeries wanted you to. You wouldn't be able to eat, drink, or even sleep." He crossed his arms and gave Alfred a challenging look, liking the startled look appearing on Alfred's face. "If no one pulls you out, you could die of starvation or exhaustion. And the scariest part is. . ." Arthur paused dramatically and whispered, "you wouldn't even know you're dying."

Alfred's blue eyes were wide and fearful as he listened. "So you. . . dance to death," he breathed out.

"Exactly."

"But wait, doesn't that make faeries evil then?"

"Not really," Arthur shrugged. "It's really just a sort of punishment for stepping into their territory. I play with faeries all the time and they're really quite nice if you don't mind the tricks they play on you sometimes. The problem is you have to survive being in a faerie ring before you can see any faeries in the first place."

Alfred nodded slowly, trying to process the information. Then realization hit him. "So wait. . . then does that mean _you've_ been in a faerie ring? Since you can see them."

Impressed the Prince came to the conclusion so quickly, Arthur smirked. "Oh? So you're not as dumb as I thought you were."

"Hey!"

Arthur ignored him. "But to answer your question, yes I've been in a faerie ring."

"Oh wow! So what happened?! How did you survive?!"

"I was really lucky," Arthur answered honestly. "My mom had been picking berries further down the river from here and I had wandered off, accidentally stepping into a faerie ring. I was only 3 at the time so I didn't know any better. Luckily, my mom found me a few minutes later and pulled me out."

"And you started seeing faeries after that?"

Arthur nodded. "The task itself is quite risky, and willingly putting yourself in such a situation is just asking to be given a death sentence. If you don't want to do it, I totally under-"

"Let's do it!"

Arthur stopped short. ". . . Wh-. . . What?"

Alfred's excitement was practically overwhelming as he leaned in towards the older boy. "Let's go in a faerie ring!"

Arthur leaned away from the Prince, feeling a little overpowered by the boy's eagerness. "D-Did you not just hear a word I said? It's _dangerous_!" he emphasized. "You could die!"

But the Prince only grinned. "But you'll be there to pull me out, right? It'll be fine!"

"No! No it won't be _fine_," Arthur grumbled. "There's nothing _fine_ about risking your life! Can't I just take you to see nymphs or sprites or something else _other _than faeries?"

Alfred only stuck out his chin and bottom lip in a stubborn pout. "But everyone can see things like those! I wanna see faeries because you have to be special to see them and not everyone can see them."

"But-!"

"Aren't you the one that suggested it in the first place?"

"W-Well, yes, b-but-!"

"And besides!" Alfred interrupted, blue eyes sparkling. "It'll be a really cool adventure! It's not adventure without danger." Arthur disagreed full-heartedly, but before he could get a word out, the Prince got up and started joyfully skipping down the river. "You said the ring was down there, right? Let's go!"

"No, Alfred! Come back!"

Alfred's voice was already growing distant as he laughed. "Hurry up!"

Mumbling all the curses he knew of at the Prince – as well as his stupidity for giving him hints of the nearest faerie ring – Arthur scrambled to his feet, grabbed both pairs of shoes, and ran to catch up to the other. "Wait up already!" he called out, getting only a laugh as a response.

Much to Arthur's horror, Alfred was already standing in the ring by the time he caught up. The Prince was looking around the circle of mushrooms excitedly and completely unaware of the older boy's dismay. "This is the one, right Arthur? The one you were talking about?"

Arthur marched closer, waving for the boy to step out of the circle. "Yes, yes, congratulations, you found a faerie ring, now would you get out of it already?!"

"But I haven't seen the faeries yet!"

"Good. Come out before you do. And put on your damn shoes!" Arthur threw over the boy's shoes.

"I'm not leaving until I do," Alfred argued while stuffing his feet into his shoes.

Arthur smacked his palm to his forehead. "Alfred, come on! Stop acting so stupid!"

"I'm not stupid!"

"Then come out already!"

Alfred crossed his arms. "You can't make me," he huffed.

"Oh yeah?" Arthur growled, slowly stepping forwards as if to prove his point. Although Alfred unwillingly took a step back, he still made no move to leave the ring much to Arthur's annoyance. The farm boy continued to glare. "Alfred, I swear, if you don't step away _right_ now I'll-. . ."

Suddenly, a noise caused both heads turned to the greenery behind Alfred; neither of them dared to move or speak. After a moment's pause, Alfred hesitantly turned his eyes back to Arthur, an excited but anxious look on his face. "Did. . . Did ya hear that?"

Arthur's lips formed into a thin line as he searched the area for the source. It couldn't have been his imagination if they had _both_ heard it:

The faint sound of impish giggling.

Quickly turning his gaze back to Alfred, Arthur whispered, "I'm serious, Alfred, we have to leave. Now!"

To Arthur's demise, Alfred only began to grin. "We can't leave now! Not when we're so close!"

"Alfred!" Arthur hissed in warning. Unfortunately, it was the last thing he uttered before their argument was interrupted by a sudden fanfare that echoed around the forest clearing, startling them both. Drums started to rumble with tempo and the trumpets and flutes soon followed, introducing the dance of the faeries.

The moment Alfred saw the little creatures appearing in line out of the greenery, dancing and playing their instruments, he was awestruck and inexplicably happy. Kneeling to get a closer look, he stared with excitement and wonder as the little people circled around him, a wide grin stretching his face. Loving the warmth and overall jovial air about them, it didn't take long until Alfred was clapping along to the beat.

Meanwhile, Arthur was desperately trying to regain Alfred's attention by calling out to him and grabbing at him near the boarder of the ring. But Alfred was too deep in his euphoria to hear anything but the enchanted music. He unconsciously avoided Arthur with ease.

The music was steadily growing more intense with each passing minute. Chords and harmonies melted into one another and the tone made from various instruments was simultaneously hypnotic and energetic, able to entice any victim in the ring into an endless dance. Some faeries floated around Alfred's head – no doubt aiming directly at his ears – while others circled around his feet, bouncing over the mushroom stools or weaving around the stems.

Trying his best to calm down, Arthur sat cross-legged near the circle and kept a careful watch on the mischievous faeries as well as the Prince. As long as he was there to pull him out, Alfred would be fine he kept telling himself.

Arthur glanced down at the prancing faerie folk, recognizing some faces. "Don't you guys think it's enough now? I wouldn't want to be rude by pulling him out and interrupting your wonderful serenade," he asked with what he hoped was a convincing smile.

A passing female faerie lowered her panpipe and giggled up at the farm boy. "Aw, but Arthur, we rarely get visitors who willingly come and dance with us! Let us have a little fun, won't you?" The girl danced away before Arthur could even respond. Clearly she wasn't too concerned with Arthur's consent. Grumbling to himself, Arthur gave up negotiating and simply continued to watch Alfred gleefully dance around with the faerie folk.

Many faeries called over to the farm boy as they occasionally passed by ("Come join us, Arthur! Come join us! Dance with us!"), but Arthur knew better and politely denied each time. Despite his ability to see faeries already, stepping inside a faerie ring would bewitch him instantly and he would suffer the same fate as any innocent trespasser. At that point, even the faeries he befriended would show no recognition or mercy.

Arthur gave the Prince another half-hour until he decided it was time to end the celebration. The poor royal was sweating under the afternoon sun and was very out of breath despite being someone with a seemingly endless amount of energy. Alfred had shaken off his dark purple vest – a very expensive looking one, Arthur noted, where the symbol of Spades was embroidered with gold thread on its chest – and was starting to trip over his own aching feet, but nonetheless continued to dance away, clearly unaware of his own suffrage.

After a few more failed attempts at saving Alfred from dancing to death, Arthur began to notice something was off. At some point in time, the faeries' melody had changed, becoming something slightly more chilling than the previous tune. The scale changed from major to minor and although the melody maintained its flourish, it sounded more mischievous, if not sinister. A bad feeling formed in Arthur's stomach and seeing how the dancing faeries were ignoring his calls more than ever, his attempts to drag Alfred away became more frantic.

"Alfred, you have to get out _now_!" he shouted, almost leaning too far and stepping into the circle. But his cries fell upon deaf ears.

Suddenly, the air around Alfred began to sparkle, clustering to his body like moths to a light and encasing him in a golden glow. In a burst of desperation, Arthur leapt at Alfred, who was glowing brighter by the second, and knocked them both off their feet. Both boys groaned when they impacted the ground with a hard thud. The music abruptly ended and silence filled the air.

"Ow. . ." Alfred groaned from under the farm boy, eyes cracking open. "Arthur. . . could you get off of me, please?"

Relieved to see that Alfred was no longer in a trance, Arthur sorely rolled off the younger boy and mumbled his apologies for practically squishing him. However, he cried out in surprise when he took in their surroundings and started to urgently shake Alfred, who still lying winded on the ground, to get up. He sat up while rubbing the bump at the back of his head but he too gave a little yelp of surprise when he opened his eyes.

"W-What happened to us? Where are we? Why is everything so big?" Alfred asked, looking around frantically. "Whoa, did we _shrink_?!"

The flowers were the size of growing saplings and the trees stood at the height of mountains. The grass resembled wheat fields and mere puddles stretched on as large as a pond. The dew hidden away from the sun could easily fill a large teacup and robins perched above them were the size of horses.

Arthur swallowed hard. It was unlikely that everything grew so the only other explanation is that they were the ones that shrunk; and by faerie magic, no doubt.

Unlike him, Alfred easily recovered from shock, exclaiming, "This is so cool!" while scampering off to poke at an acorn the size of a watermelon. He glanced back at Arthur who looked like he was having a brain malfunctioning. "Does this mean we're faeries?"

The sheer silliness of the question seemed to help Arthur snap out of his stupor. "Of course not," he scoffed. "We're just the same size as them, that's all." He had answered confidently but snuck a glance at his back to check for wings when Alfred wasn't looking. He sighed in relief when neither of them had any.

A sudden rustling noise made Arthur quickly turn to look behind him, tense. He was already on edge for being in such unfamiliar territory - not to mention while in such a compromising size - so every bit of movement or noise startled him. He eventually relaxed when nothing came jumping out at him, but something caught his eye before he could look away.

A small space between the roots of the tree behind him seemed to be moving; shimmering under the waning afternoon sun. Curious, he hesitantly moved closer and reached out a hand to touch the strange illusion. If his suspicions were correct. . .

Without warning, another royal fanfare – louder than the previous one – blasted through the air, almost giving both boys a heart attack. This time, instead of a parade of musicians, numerous faeries came flowing out of the landscape to crowd around the boys. Grinning faces loomed over them, bombarding them with questions or prodding and petting the boys to no end. Voices overlapped one another in excited chaos.

"Humans! Young humans!" one faerie cheered to his friend standing beside him.

Another faerie, an older female with hints of grey in her hair, reached forward to pinch Arthur's cheek. "How pale his skin is! And were his eyebrows always this thick? I thought they were only bushy because he was big!" Needless to say Arthur was none too happy at the statement and tried to wriggle free from the woman's hold.

"Oh, and this one is such a darling!" another female faerie called over the commotion a little further away. Arthur glanced over to see Alfred being literally smothered between faeries. The older ladies especially were swallowing up Alfred's breathing space. "His eyes are so blue! And he's so cute!" they cooed, to which Alfred laughed awkwardly and thanked them out of politeness.

As much as the two of them tried, they weren't able to separate questions, let alone answer them, as they overlapped each other and came out in a constant stream.

"So how long will you be staying? You're welcome to stay at my house if you'd like." "Oh no! My house is much larger and would be more suited for you and your friend over there. How about that?" "What do _your _houses look like? Are human houses much different than ours?" "How do you get around if you have no wings? Don't tell me you just _walk _everywhere!" "It must be nice not needing to worry about your house being flooded from rain. . ." "Say, how old are you?" "_My _house has nicer furniture!"

"My fellow faeries," a man's voice cut through the excitement, "please don't overwhelm the young humans, would you? They've only just arrived after all."

The new voice effectively silenced the faeries and they quickly (and regrettably) cleared to the sides for a young male faerie dressed in a purple leaf tunic to approach them. A few other males dressed in what looked like military uniforms stood in formation behind him, faces stiff and serious. Suddenly everything quieted. Feeling a little intimidated at the sudden change of atmosphere, Alfred quickly shuffled to Arthur's side and subconsciously clung to the older boy's sleeve.

The man stopped a few feet in front of the two and gave a little bow, a smile on his handsome face. "Greetings young Prince of Spades. Arthur. As the royal messenger, I'd like to express my most sincere welcome to our realm." He glanced up.

Arthur realized the small pause was to hear a response. "Oh! I-It's an honor."

The messenger continued seamlessly. "My Queen is delighted to have you with us today and regrets not being able to attend your arrival as she is currently occupied. However, she hopes that you would be so kind as to grant her an audience at the feast today to make up for her absence."

Alfred and Arthur were stunned. "Feast?" Alfred gaped.

"Q-Queen?" Arthur sputtered.

The messenger nodded. "We've prepared a feast to celebrate your arrival and the Queen will be present. I presume you will attend?" Despite the smile on the messenger's face while he asked the question, Arthur could sense that the man was challenging them, as if daring them to say otherwise.

Luckily, Alfred was the one to answer as Arthur was feeling quite voiceless at the moment. "Yeah, we'll attend!" he beamed. The messenger then looked over at Arthur for his answer, to which Arthur swallowed hard and stiffly nodded. Everything was happening so fast!

"I'm very pleased to hear your answer," the messenger said, his smile unchanging. "I'm sure the Queen will be pleased to hear of your attendance as well. With that being said. . ." The male faerie flicked his wings to life and hovered a few inches off the ground. The guards behind him followed suit. Giving another small bow, the messenger said, "I will report back to the Queen of your decision. I look forward to meeting you again at the feast. Until then, please enjoy your stay." With that, he and the guards turned and quickly flew out of sight.

The crowd settled into an excited murmur once the messenger was gone and Alfred immediately turned to Arthur, his eyes sparkling. "Did ya hear that, Arthur?! They're hosting a feast for us!"

Arthur turned to the boy, feeling numb. ". . . And you're not a tad worried about meeting the Queen?"

Alfred tilted his head to the side a little. "Why would I be?"

He gave Alfred an incredulous look. "You're not serious, are you? We're meeting the Faerie Queen! Aren't you nervous at all?!"

Alfred shrugged. "I've met other queens before. We have them over at the palace all the time! I don't think this one would be any different. . . other than her being a faerie and all."

Arthur felt slightly offended by the younger boy's indifference. "Well _sorry _if a poor farm boy like me doesn't dine with royalty every day and isn't used to it. Of course I would want to leave a good impression," he huffed, crossing his arms and turning away. Despite the words coming out of his mouth, it was something else entirely that was making him feel so anxious.

"Aw c'mon Arthur, I didn't mean it like that," Alfred pouted. "Besides, I'm royalty and you've eaten with me before!"

Arthur snorted. "Oh yes, chewing away at apples under a tree with an seven-year-old is certainly the same as eating a meal with a Queen."

"Hey! I know my table manners!"

"Sure you do."

Before Alfred could protest and remind Arthur just how little their age gap really was, four female faeries approached them, giggling. "Sorry to interrupt your little quarrel, but we're going soon and need to get you two saddled."

"S-Saddled?" Arthur echoed.

Instead of answering, they just giggled and positioned themselves so that a faerie was on either side of each boy. Without any warning, both boys were being lifted into the air. Arthur uttered a startled squeak while staring down fearfully at the ground getting further and further away from his feet. Trying his best to shut out another embarrassing sound that was threatening to escape his throat, Arthur shut his eyes tight and clenched his teeth together. Beside him, he could hear Alfred whooping, the blasted idiot, and it certainly wasn't making him feel any better.

Soon Arthur felt the speed of their ascent slow and himself being sat on top of something soft and. . . very much alive. Instinctively his eyes snapped open.

"Arthur!" Alfred squeaked out a little ways beside him. "W-We're riding a bird! _A bird! _Can you believe it?!"

Arthur gaped. The faeries had placed them on their method of transportation for the flightless:

Hummingbirds.

Arthur dumbly nodded in response to Alfred's glee, blinking owlishly as he stared at his own hummingbird in fascination. He was sitting on a saddle made from threaded grass and twine and he had matching reins wrapped around the bird's beak to hold on to. The bird's green feathers shone with rainbow sheen and gently reflected the sunlight. The wings thrummed with blinding speed and Arthur could feel its equally fast heartbeat tingle over his skin. Its head was slightly turned to curiously watch the tiny human now riding on its back.

Arthur was instantly entranced. It wasn't everyday you could pet a hummingbird and the reality of feeling its velvety feathers under his hand was breathtaking. "H-Hello there," he said softly, stroking its neck and head. The hummingbird happily sang out a small chirp in response and Arthur beamed.

Regrettably, his reverie was cut short when they began to move. The trumpets sounded once more and that was all the warning he got before they began to fly. Letting out a startled cry, Arthur threw himself around the hummingbird's neck, fumbling desperately for the reins when it suddenly shot forwards. They were gathering enough speed to push back his hair and make his eyes start to water. Admittedly, it was quite exhilarating to fly so fast, albeit on a bird, but Arthur couldn't help but feel terrified at the possibility of falling off. Against his will, his eyes fearfully glanced down.

The distance to the ground wasn't lethal, but it was enough for several broken bones. The fact that they were flying fast enough for the greenery to blur was plenty enough reason for Arthur to tighten his grip around the base of the reins and lean closer to his hummingbird. Feeling sick, he looked over to a neighbouring faerie. "I-Is it really necessary to fly this fast?"

The male faerie, plump and jovial-looking, guffawed at Arthur's question. "You call this flying? Oh my dear boy, we might as well be idling!" Arthur laughed nervously and the man smiled widely at him. "Fret not! You'll get used to it in a jiffy!"

"S-Sure. . . " The knot in Arthur's stomach only tightened, as did his grip on the reins. He wanted so badly to believe the man's words, he really did.

On the other hand, Alfred was laughing euphorically beside him. "I can't believe this is happening right now! This is so awesome!" he shouted. He even had the nerve to pump both fists into the air, only adding on to Arthur's anxiety.

"Alfred!" he hissed. "Keep your hands on the reins!"

"Aw, don't be such a worry wart, Arthur!" he grinned back. "I'm fine!"

"You won't be fine when you fall to your death and die!" he countered. But Arthur's angry demeanour was interrupted when they swerved sharply to the side to avoid a tree and he let out an alarmed yelp. He glared dangerously at Alfred when he saw that the boy was laughing at him. "Oh, shut up. Don't expect me to grieve if you fall and crack your head open!"

Arthur spent the rest of the ride wringing the life out of his reins and glaring stubbornly at his hummingbird's head, focusing on anything but the blurred scenery or Alfred's cheering. Eventually it became so unbearable that he dug his face into the bird's warm feathers in attempts to soothe his flipping stomach. The flight seemed to last forever for Arthur, but they landed after travelling for only a few short minutes. Arthur scrambled off the moment his bird touched ground and its wings stopped flapping, almost collapsing on the spot. His legs were shaking like a newborn foal.

He helplessly draped an arm over the bird's neck, leaning on it for support while holding a hand to his stomach. The hummingbird turned its head and gently nudged Arthur, giving him a low chirp in concern. Arthur met its eyes and offered a weak smile. "Sorry for all this. It's not your fault or anything. . . I guess I'm just not used to flying. I'll be fine in a tick. . . I think. . ." He raised his shaking hand to pet the bird on the head and it leaned into his touch with a low trill that almost sounded like a cat purring.

"Holy cow, that was awesome!"

Arthur tiredly looked over at Alfred who was just climbing off his hummingbird with a blinding smile plastered on his face. His blue eyes seemed more electric than usual when he ran up to the older boy. "Arthur, wasn't that so much fun?! I mean, we were flying so fast, going around trees and through the leaves and stuff! And I thought horses were fast, but _wow _I can ride a hummingbird all day! It was great! I just can't believe it was over so soon. What do you think, Arthur?" He paused, seeing the discomforted look the other boy had on his face. ". . . Arthur?"

Arthur was grimacing at the Prince's exuberant rambling, sharing none of his excitement. "Yes. . . It was absolutely _smashing_," he glowered.

Alfred's smile dimmed as he finally took note of Arthur's green complexion. "You okay? You don't look so good."

Arthur shot him a weak glare. "Thanks for noticing." He retched, clamping a hand over his mouth.

". . . You're not gonna puke, are you?" Alfred asked warily.

"Of course not!" Arthur huffed, trying to stand up straight. Unfortunately, he _did _feel like he was going to throw up the moment he lifted his weight off his hummingbird. Bile rose to his throat and he clasped a hand over his mouth again. Breaking out in cold sweat, Arthur's vision swirled at the same time he heard the trumpets' fanfare. He moaned as he felt his stomach churn dangerously. He had a bad feeling he wasn't going to be able to hold the next wave down.

Alfred took a step back, his voice suddenly dropping to a harsh whisper. "Um. . . Arthur? If you're really not feeling okay, maybe you should go off to the side. Now's not a good time to-. . ."

Then Arthur vomited.

Alfred winced. ". . . throw up. . ." Arthur could hear a chorus of groans from the surrounding faeries.

"Oh my," a soft voice commented. "Flight-sick, Arthur dear?"

Arthur fearfully glanced up to see none other than the Faerie Queen regarding him with a subtle look of concern on her face. The messenger that spoke to them earlier stood by her side with his nose crinkled up in disgust.

Arthur wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and while wiping it on his pants, immediately bowed and apologized profusely, a blush blooming on his cheeks. "I-I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. I'm really sorry!"

"Oh, Arthur, there's nothing to apologize for," the Queen reassured. She then turned to a female faerie beside her; her lady-in-waiting. "Give him a cup of nectar, would you?"

With a nod, the girl moved towards Arthur and took out a pouch. Using the lid as a cup, she poured a generous amount into it and offered it to him. Arthur knew of the liquid and its healing powers so he was secretly excited to finally get a taste of it. Thanking the girl, he gratefully took the cup and downed it, relishing the rich and sweet taste. Within seconds, the colour instantly returned to his face and his nausea vanished. Finally able to stand up straight, he took in a deep breath and mentally straightened himself up before shyly giving back the lid to the lady-in-waiting. She gave him a sympathetic smile before capping the pouch and returning to the Queen's side.

Now that his vision was no longer swirling and his mind was clear, Arthur was able to properly see the Faerie Queen and all her glory. He had been told about her beauty from his faerie friends, but it was nothing compared to seeing her in person.

Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and due to the green colour of faerie blood, her skin held a greenish undertone to the otherwise peachy colour. Her dress was made from the petals of water lilies, and spiraling down her arms was braided grass that formed into bracelets around her delicate wrists. The Queen's light auburn hair shone like gold under the sunlight and cascaded in waves down her back and over her chest. Crowning her hair was a bejeweled tiara sparkling with solid tree sap and frozen dew. Her hazel eyes seemed intense enough to burn a hole into anyone who looked at her despite the kind smile she wore on her sculptured face.

She truly was a sight to see and Arthur instantly felt intimidated.

"Feeling better?" she inquired, tilting her head ever so slightly.

Arthur nodded, still embarrassed. "Much. Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty."

The Queen smiled and nodded in acknowledgment. "I'm terribly sorry you had to endure that, but you must understand that the speed in which you flew at was our bare minimum if we were to avoid any predators in the area."

"P-. . . Predators?"

"Well, yes. After all, not all creatures recognize and respect our kind. Rather, they prefer thinking us as food," she said easily, breathing out a humourless laugh. Unaware of the horrified look Arthur now had on his face, the Queen turned her attention to the boy beside him.

Alfred immediately bowed with practiced grace and greeted her with a, "Your Majesty," before rising back up.

A spark seemed to light up in her eyes. The Queen walked closer to him; close enough to raise a dainty finger and silently trace it down the side of Alfred's face. The boy shivered uncomfortably under her touch, surprised to find her caress cold in temperature. The Queen had a look of thoughtfulness on her face as she smiled at him. "Greetings, young Prince of Spades. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Her voice was light and dreamlike as she spoke.

Alfred laughed sheepishly. "In all honesty, I just stepped into a faerie ring so I can see faeries like Arthur. I-uh. . . wasn't really expecting to meet you, Your Majesty."

For a second, the Queen's smile dropped ever so slightly and was replaced with an unreadable expression as she regarded the little boy in front of her. But her smile returned just as fast as it went. "Please, there's no need for formalities. Call me Titania. . . . May I call you Alfred?" she asked.

Alfred nodded.

"Excellent." She then spoke to both boys, sparing Arthur a glance to indicate she wished for his attention. "Originally, I was to meet the two of you at the feast my citizens had prepared for your stay, but alas, my eagerness got a hold of me and I couldn't wait any longer to meet you."

"We're flattered," Alfred commented flawlessly, causing Arthur to look over at him in surprise. A smooth, calm smile was placed on his face and his hands were properly clasped behind his back as he looked up at the Queen. The whole picture was wrong and Arthur decided there and then that he didn't like it, hearing the young boy speak so formally and look so tidy and overall so unlike himself. Alfred was acting too mature for his age and although Arthur knew it was mandatory given the boy's status as Prince, it made Arthur uncomfortable to watch. He much preferred it when Alfred laughed obnoxiously or invaded his personal space.

The Queen smiled favorably down at the young Prince. "I think we'll get along splendidly," she whispered after a pause. The light in her eyes only intensified and Arthur was alarmed to see a look of possessiveness flit across her face.

Then Titania clapped her hands together and addressed her citizens. "Well, it seems we've dawdled long enough. I say it's about time we start heading to the feast, wouldn't you agree?" When the crowd gave a cheer in response, she turned to look back at her messenger. He simply nodded and took over.

"Give the boys your best welcome!" he called out encouragingly. "Let's show them what faerie spirit's all about!"

The crowd cheered wildly and the music started up again, this time with a marching tempo for the citizens to prance to. Flower petals shrunken to size showered over them like rain and excited faeries twirled and danced in the air. Those on the ground whooped in joy and somersaulted around without hesitation.

Feeling very out of place, Arthur jogged over to Alfred who beamed his regular smile at him. Arthur opened his mouth to voice his concerns but was suddenly interrupted when Titania's hand cut the space between them to rest on Alfred's shoulder, obstructing their view. They looked up.

The Queen's eyes were solely trained on Alfred. "Won't you walk with me? I have many questions about your world and would love for you to. . . indulge me."

Alfred seemed just as startled as Arthur was, his blue eyes wide and confused. "Oh, um. . . sure," he answered.

"Wonderful."

As Titania used her hand to guide Alfred away, the Prince looked back at Arthur with a hesitant expression on his face, as if unsure on whether or not Arthur was okay with letting the Queen suddenly whisk him away like that. Of course, Arthur was already feeling anxious about the whole thing, but the obvious message that he was unwanted – and by the Faerie Queen no less – dug a painful stake into his heart.

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line and awkwardly offered Alfred a small smile to signal that it was okay. . . even though it really wasn't. All he saw was Alfred's apologetic smile before he disappeared into the crowd. Giving out a sigh, Arthur looked around him.

Every faerie was dancing erratically by themselves or with a partner; some of them were even huddled in a group and laughing out loud in good cheer, humming to the music. All of them were oblivious to Arthur's presence. Unable to find a single, familiar face, Arthur shuffled along with the crowd to where he assumed was the location of the feast feeling lonelier than ever.

As they traveled through the kingdom and through little makeshift streets, a few residents that had stayed behind flew out to greet the parade, waving and showering a few more flower petals on them before joining in. Despite how most of them waved at their faerie friends participating in the parade, Arthur noticed that their attention was quickly changed to fixate on a certain couple a few ways ahead of him. He didn't need to stand on his tiptoes to know who there were staring at.

Arthur pouted and glared at his feet. Gaining access into the faerie kingdom was what he had always dreamed of! But now that he was finally here he wasn't able to enjoy a second of it. First, he got flight-sick and ended up making a fool of himself by throwing up in front of the Queen; second, the Queen was clearly uninterested in him and wanted nothing to do with him, especially not when there was the cute, innocent, blue-eyed Prince of Spades to strike up a conversation with; and third, he was still being treated like an outcast even in a kingdom where his faerie friends lived in; friends that hadn't bothered to find him! Arthur was beginning to think the day couldn't get any worse.

Then the people in front of him parted slightly, giving Arthur a clear view to the backs of both royalties. Although he wasn't able to lip-read or hear what they were saying, both had a smile on their faces and seemed to be having the time of their lives. Arthur didn't realize he had such a sour look on his face until the royal messenger interrupted his thoughts by appearing beside him.

"Jealous?"

Arthur jumped and turned to see an amused expression on the man's face. Arthur's shock instantly evaporated and he scowled, turning away. "O-Of course not," he denied. "Why would I be?"

"Oh, I don't know, your friend stealing the spotlight and being favoured by the Queen seems to be a likely reason, am I right?"

Arthur's cheeks flushed pink. "T-Toss off," he mumbled. Was he really that predictable?

The messenger chuckled, enjoying his time toying with the boy. "But of course, I don't blame you," he mused, "that Prince really is something. Not only is he innocent and pure – something we faeries adore – but he's cute. . . and royalty to boot." Arthur grit his teeth together, hoping that the messenger would get a clue from his silence. Unfortunately, he just continued. "Our Queen's certainly glad we got our hands on someone like him. Hardly are there any royalty that don't fall victim to greed and power. It'll only be a matter of time before that little Prince is taken too."

"Alfred isn't like that!" Arthur countered immediately. He was surprised to find himself defending the Prince so hurriedly despite feeling so envious at the same time. Even the messenger seemed surprised.

But he quickly recovered. "Oh, isn't he?" When Arthur sent him a heated glare, he merely shrugged, unfazed. "Well, if you're so insistent about it, I suppose I'll believe you. However, it doesn't change the fact that he is still young and can still be persuaded to change. This is why our Queen will do her best to stop it before that can happen."

Arthur suddenly felt cold as he turned to the man for an explanation.

"Like I said," the messenger hummed, his lips curling into a strange smile, "faeries _adore_ the pure and innocent."

". . . What do you mean by that?"

The messenger glanced down at him with only his eyes, smirking wickedly. "That's for me to know and you to find out." Before Arthur could utter another sound, the messenger looked up. "Oh! Look's like we've arrived. We've reserved a seat for you at the Queen's table so don't worry too much about being left out, dear Arthur. I do hope you enjoy your meal." As if to mock him further, the messenger bowed while retreating before turning on his heels to float away to his seat.

Arthur gritted his teeth in frustration and started to search for Alfred among the crowd of faeries. The conversation gave him a bad feeling and he decided that he really wasn't liking the royal messenger or the Queen. Eventually he found the Prince already seated beside the Queen still chatting away like old friends much to Arthur's irritation. Feeling abandoned and emotionally confused, he marched up to the empty seat beside Alfred and sat down noisily with a huff.

Alfred jumped a little at the sudden interruption, but he recovered quickly upon seeing who it was. "Oh, hey Arthur! Isn't this place fantastic?! The Queen was just offering to take me around on a tour if I wanted. Do you wanna come?"

Arthur stared hard at the cutlery set out in front of him. "Are you deaf or just plain stupid? The Queen was offering _you_ and only you. Isn't it considered rude to invite me without the Queen's consent?" he spat.

"Oh, but Arthur," the Queen interjected, "I only said it in such a way because I was already speaking to Alfred. I was hoping to ask you once you arrived at the table as we seemed to have lost you along the way."

Arthur continued to burn a hole through his plate, finding himself quickly getting sick of the Queen's overly sweet tone. He wanted so badly to remind her that she was the one that purposely separated them in the first place. "I didn't want to be a bother as I'm sure talking to Alfred is much more entertaining. Thank you for the invite and your _kind _intentions, but I will have to decline."

"Arthur!" Alfred cried out in horror beside him.

Understanding that he was practically digging his own grave, Arthur muttered, ". . . I apologize, Your Majesty. I take back my words."

The Queen smile hadn't faltered the whole way through and the reality of it was a bit frightening. "I accept your apology. And Alfred, it's quite alright, dear. I'm sure Arthur's just feeling a little under the weather after being flight-sick and all. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

Arthur just looked away.

Alfred hesitantly glanced over at the Queen. "I-If you say so. . ."

Titania nodded and moved to get up from her seat. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be off to deliver my speech about your arrival." Gathering up her dress to step around her chair, she moved to the edge of the clearing where a little hill was rising from the earth to address her citizens. All the faeries seated at their tables turned to give their Queen their utmost attention as she stood upon her makeshift stage.

Meanwhile, Alfred leaned closer to the sulking Arthur with a worried frown on his face. "Arthur, what was that all about?" he whispered. "You're the one who wanted to see the Queen and impress her. Why are you suddenly acting like you hate her?"

Arthur crossed his arms and couldn't bear looking into those innocent, blue eyes staring intently at him. "Just leave me alone, Alfred."

"Just tell me what's wrong!"

"I don't want to!"

"Why not?!"

"Because," Arthur mumbled stubbornly.

"Arthur. . ."

"I just. Don't. Want to!"

Alfred huffed and leaned away. "Fine, be that way. I thought we were friends 'cause friends tell each other everything. . . But I guess not."

Arthur didn't miss the way Alfred's voice lowered in disappointment at the end of the sentence, but he didn't allow himself to give in. He really wasn't in the mood to deal with Alfred's happy-go-lucky behaviour at the moment; not when he had other things to sort out in his head. Tense silence settled between the two and even when the Queen finished her speech and sat back down in her seat, Arthur didn't look up from his plate and Alfred seemed to throw himself into conversation almost desperately.

Arthur knew that taking his jealousy out on Alfred was childish, but he didn't know what else to do about his emotional restlessness. Something just didn't sit right with him and he hated not being able to figure out why. Ever since they met the messenger, Arthur had a feeling that something was off.

It was unusual for the faeries to bring humans to their realm in the first place, so Arthur couldn't think of a single reason why they were suddenly an exception. But judging by what the messenger had said, Arthur figured that the Queen had something up her sleeves and Alfred was part of it. The way she had been staring at Alfred only confirmed his suspicions.

"So, Alfred, how are you enjoying your stay so far?" the Queen asked while waiting for the servers to finish placing out their food.

Alfred smiled. "It's great! I almost feel like I never want to leave."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hm?...Is that so?" Arthur glanced over upon hearing her tone and instantly felt a chill run down his spine. Whatever her plan was, it definitely wasn't good.

"Yeah! I mean, this place is great! Everyone's happy and you ride around on hummingbirds!"

"I'm overjoyed to hear you say so. You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like."

"Thank you!" Alfred said, eyeing the food resting in front of them. Sliced fruit and baked goods were strewn all over the table. An assortment of nuts and flavoured nectar were laid out to savour as well. Alfred's mouth was practically watering as he hadn't had anything to eat since lunch back at the palace.

Seeing the eager look on the boy's face, the Queen was all but happy to let him eat. "Enjoy your meal. . . my Prince."

Something about the way her voice suddenly lowered and how her hazel eyes burned desirously into Alfred with anticipation flipped a switch in Arthur's head. Everything suddenly clicked into place and Arthur panicked, hurriedly smacking a tart right out of Alfred's hand before he could bite into it. "No!" he shouted, green eyes wide.

The Queen, her messenger, and Alfred turned to him in surprise and Arthur didn't miss the way the two faeries practically snarled at him. Alfred, on the other hand, had a look of hurt and annoyance on his face at the wasted food. "What was that for, Arthur?" he whined.

Not answering the question, Arthur noisily scraped back his chair, stood, and grabbed Alfred's hand, hastily turning to the Queen and her messenger. "If I may, I would like to speak to Alfred. Alone. Please excuse us." Before any of the faeries could reply, Arthur hurriedly walked away with a complaining Alfred in tow.

The Queen watched the retreating boys, her face drawn into a dark frown. "Follow them," she commanded to her messenger, "and stop them. They will not escape."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Settling into her chair, the Queen delicately sipped her tea and regarded the fallen tart on the ground as her messenger retreated. "Hmm," she sniffed. "What a waste."

* * *

**First of all I'd like to apologize for not updating for so long but hopefully this extra-long chapter will make up for it (3000 words longer than the previous chapter!). I had a really bad writer's block in regards to the entire story plot so I had to spend many sleepless nights re-thinking through what I have in plan for the story. I think I've gotten the gist of it so hopefully, an unplanned 2-month hiatus won't happen again.**

**Secondly, this chapter is not my best, I admit. I'm not very happy with it. It was a whole lot longer, but then I realized that I was rushing to finish it and the quality itself was deteriorating the longer I worked on it. This is why I've decided to split it into two chapters. I'll be finished the next one hopefully in the next week.**

**Thank you again for all your support! It really keeps me going.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Arthur!" Alfred cried out while being mercilessly dragged through the village by the farm boy. "Arthur, what are you doing?! Stop!"

Ignoring the Prince's cries and struggles, Arthur continued pulling him through the streets of the faerie kingdom. It was when they reached the edge of the kingdom and the mushroom houses were no longer spawning did Alfred finally managed to pull his hand free, forcing Arthur to stop.

"What are you doing?" Arthur hissed, turning around to shoot the Prince a glare.

"What are _you _doing?!" Alfred replied, distancing himself defensively. "Why are you acting so weird, dragging me away like that?!" He rubbed at his sore wrist.

Arthur marched closer, eyes narrowing. "First rule when in the faerie kingdom: never eat faerie food. One bite of anything is all it takes for you to be trapped here forever!"

"What, and you expected me to know that?!"

"No, which is why I take some of the blame for not telling you," Arthur said while biting his lips in frustrated contemplation. Then he shook his head, "But we'll debate about that later. For now, we need to go back as quickly as we can." He reached for Alfred's hand.

"Go back where?"

"Home."

"What?! No!" Horrified, Alfred pulled away his hand before Arthur could touch it. "What do you mean go home?! We just got here! What about the feas-?!"

"Can you _not _think about your stomach for _one_-?!"

"And the faeries?!" Alfred continued. "What about Titania?!"

Having none of it, Arthur grabbed Alfred's forearm with bruising strength in attempts to drag him forward. Alfred dug his heels into the dirt and pulled the other way, surprised at the farm boy's strength. "The Queen is the reason we're leaving," Arthur huffed as the two continued their tug-of-war. "And would you stop struggling?!"

"No!" Alfred protested amidst wrenching at Arthur's grip on him. "Not until you tell me why we're leaving!"

"I'll explain to you after we've returned back to normal! It's too dangerous when we're still in the Queen's territory; we don't have time to waste."

"But why?!"

"I already told you I'll tell you after we're back to normal!" Arthur was quickly losing his patience as he struggled to drag the resisting boy down the path.

"And _I_ already said. . . ," Alfred shifted his weight, "no!" He swiftly kicked one of Arthur's shins, causing the older boy to yelp and release Alfred's arm. The Prince wasted no time running back the direction they came, stumbling over his feet.

Just as he thought he was home free, something latched onto his legs, making him fall flat on his face. Glancing behind him, he saw Arthur wrapped around his ankles, preventing him from kicking or escaping. His green eyes were watery from the pain of bruised shins.

"Let go of me!" Alfred cried, struggling violently. He even tried clawing at the dirt as if it would help him pull his legs free from the older boy.

Arthur coughed away the dirt flying into his face. "Not until you calm down and listen to me!"

Alfred's squirming didn't subside. If anything, they became more frantic. "_I'm _the one that needs to calm down?! Says the crazy one who dragged me away just because he forgot to remind me I can't eat anything!"

"Oh, and you think you would've listened even if I told you?!"

"Yeah, of course!"

"As if! The Queen had you all wrapped around her little finger that I doubt you would've even cared!" Arthur spat, tightening his hold around Alfred's legs.

"How would you know?! You didn't even bother asking!" He paused. "You didn't even bother _answering_ when I asked you if something was wrong!"

Arthur hesitated, not wanting to admit the reason why he acted so stubbornly at the table. "I-I wasn't sure yet, that's all! And I don't need to ask to know that you've completely fallen for their trickery!"

"I haven't!"

"Oh yeah?! Then why are you so desperate to go back?!"

Alfred shot Arthur an accusing look. "Why are _you _so desperate to get away?!"

Patience wearing thin, Arthur shouted, "Because I'm trying to save your goddamn arse from being kidnapped!"

Alfred froze. Arthur stopped. The only thing that could be heard from either of them was tired panting as they stared at each other.

"K-. . . Kidnapped?" Alfred panted, confused.

"You. . . still don't get it?" Arthur asked incredulously, cautiously loosening his hold. "Why do you think we met the Queen even though it's the first time we've been here? Why was the Queen so insistent on meeting us here instead of at the feast? Why do you think the feast was basically the highlight of all of this even though they _know _we can't eat faerie food?!"

". . . Why?"

"Because they never intended for us to leave in the first place!" Arthur was fed up at Alfred's naïve behaviour. "They wanted us to eat the food so we could never leave!"

Alfred didn't look convinced. "And why would they do that?"

"Why _wouldn't _they when they have the Prince of Spades in their kingdom?" Arthur muttered bitterly.

"What do they want _me _for?"

"I don't know exactly, but they want to use you for _something_."

"What proof do you even have?!"

"The messenger said so! He said that the Queen will do her best to stop you before you can get corrupted or something and that means she has a plan that involves you!" Arthur made a wild grab for Alfred's hand again.

For the third time, Alfred shook his hand free. "Would you stop that?!" he huffed. "So what if that's what the messenger said? That doesn't mean they're actually planning to trap us!"

"Then why else would they serve us food?!"

"To be nice and do what good hosts usually do, duh?" Alfred gave the farm boy an unimpressed stare. "Don't you think you're over-exaggerating everything?"

Arthur's cheeks turned pink upon hearing the accusation, his frustration rising. He couldn't believe what he was hearing and he resisted the urge to just punch the boy to his senses. "Over-exaggerating?! I'm trying to-"

"Save me?" Alfred finished sarcastically. "From what, Arthur?! You said yourself faeries are harmless!"

"I didn't say _that_! I said they weren't _evil_!"

"What's the difference?!" Alfred raised his voice

"Everything!" Arthur boomed, raising his voice louder. He knew his response was childish, but his patience had run out. Before Alfred could even open his mouth to respond, Arthur scoffed, fed up, and put his hands up in mock surrender. "Okay you know what?! Fine! Stay here and be pampered forever for all I care! I can go back by myself. Someone like you doesn't deserve to be the Prince of Spades anyway. You can just go and be the Queen's pet for the rest of your life! I'm leaving." Arthur turned on his heels and marched away, determined to seriously leave the boy behind.

For a moment's pause, only Arthur's angry footsteps could be heard. Then Alfred finally said, "Oh I get it," with a hint of a smile, "You're just jealous, aren't you?"

Arthur whipped his head around to look at the Prince. "W-What?!"

"Yeah, that must be it! You're jealous of me!" Alfred laughed, as if it made perfect sense.

Arthur's cheeks burned a dark pink. "N-No I'm not! I have no reason to be jealous of you!"

Alfred crossed his arms. "Pft, yeah right. You're jealous because I'm getting close to the Queen and you're not; that I'm the one she favours and not you! You're just saying all this because you're sick of being pushed aside!"

Arthur was stunned into silence, staring wide-eyed at Alfred. A sharp pain stun his chest. He didn't know what hurt more: the fact that Alfred was saying everything so bluntly or the fact that Alfred knew he was being left out and yet didn't do anything about it. Arthur felt as if rain water had been dumped over his head; his anger fizzing out. "It's. . . not like that at all," he insisted miserably, looking away. Against his will, the back of his eyes stung with tears as the frustration of being denied and put down pooled over him. Suddenly, Arthur felt betrayed.

The hurt look on Arthur's face made Alfred's chest tighten in guilt and he instantly regretted what he had previously said. But Alfred stopped himself from apologizing after remembering why they were arguing in the first place.

Unable to console or further argue with the older boy, Alfred felt his own anger subside and pitifully wither away. "Whatever," he pouted, turning to head back, leaving Arthur behind. "Do what you want. I'm going back."

But before Alfred could take a second step, a rapid crescendo of flittering faerie wings broke through the tense silence and shook the boys back to reality. A few feet away and flying straight towards them was a swarm of faeries that moved as fluidly as an incoming tide. It was the messenger and the royal guards with weapons in hand and fully armed, bee-lining straight towards the two boys.

"Stop where you are!" the messenger cried.

Alarmed blue eyes locked with green and without a single word in exchange, Alfred and Arthur began to run. Argument and sulking long forgotten, the boys frantically scurried away in a panic, subconsciously grabbing each other's hand. Running as fast as their legs could carry them, they cut through grass, dodged around tall roots, and swatted away drooping flowers. Arthur, being the slower runner, tripped several times, but Alfred never let go of his hand and only gripped it tighter as they made their escape.

Sneaking a glance behind his shoulder, Arthur yelped when a guard took a swipe at him, cutting off a few hair strands as he ducked just in time. "Do not harm them!" they heard the messenger warn the guard. "The Queen wants them untouched and alive!"

Arthur swallowed the nervous lump in his throat when all of a sudden, Alfred pulled him in a sharp turn to the right to change direction. It temporarily threw the faeries off track as they continued down their straight path, unaware that the boys had escaped to another route.

"W-What-. . . ! Where are you going?!" Arthur yelled, to which Alfred replied over his shoulder, "A faster option!"

Arthur was no longer confused when saw that Alfred was leading them towards the group of awaiting hummingbirds. Arthur instantly snatched his hand back. "Oh no, I am _not _getting on top of one of those again. No way!" He protested as Alfred climbed on one with ease.

Grasping the reins with one hand, Alfred reached out to Arthur with the other. "I thought you wanted to go home!"

"Of course I do!"

"Then get on already!"

Arthur glanced at the bird nervously. "C-Can't we just keep running?"

"And what, risk getting caught because of your slow running?"

"I'm not _that _slow! I can at least keep up with you!" Arthur fumed.

"Barely! You're dying after only that much!" Alfred pointed at the older boy who was indeed panting much more heavily than the Prince.

Arthur sputtered and hurriedly changed the subject. "Is this even _your _bird?!"

"Of course it is!"

"How do you know?!"

"It has this star-shaped mark on its hea-. . . wait, why are we arguing about this?! Just get on already before they find us!"

Within the minute that Arthur hesitated, a collective shout was heard. Quickly looking behind him, Arthur saw the faerie soldiers flying towards them looking none too happy that they were previously deluded. Letting out a groan of despair, Arthur spat, "Okay fine!" Begrudgingly taking Alfred's hand, he climbed onto the hummingbird to saddle behind the younger.

Alfred turned to his bird. "Take us back to where you met us! Hurry!" With an affirmative chirp, the hummingbird instantly lifted from the ground and shot forwards, wings beating with blinding speed.

Their sudden take off forced Arthur to wrap his arms around the smaller boy in a panic, feeling that if he loosened even just a tad, he would fall off backwards.

"Arthur, I can't breathe," Alfred choked out with a short laugh, but Arthur didn't hear him over his own internal screaming. Seeing the older boy look so pale in fright made Alfred want to simultaneously laugh and comfort him. "Hey, Arthur. . . you oka-"

"_Now _do you believe me?!" Arthur interrupted, accusing.

Regretting even feeling a spec of sympathy for the older boy, Alfred rolled his eyes and grumbled. "Okay, I'll admit, something weird is going on, but that doesn't mean you're right about the Queen wanting to trap us."

"What other proof do you need?! Aren't soldiers hunting us dressed in full armour and armed with weapons enough?!" Arthur yelled over the rushing wind.

"They're not going to hurt us!" Alfred argued, but it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Arthur.

"And yet they're still planning on capturing us!" Arthur said hotly. "Why can't you just admit that I'm right?!"

They suddenly dropped in height, making Arthur cry out in fear as his stomach churned and goosebumps rose all over his body. Deciding that it was better just to concentrate on not throwing up again, Arthur clamped his mouth closed and said nothing more.

Little did he know that Alfred had purposefully steered the bird to drop in hopes of shutting the older boy up.

Seeing that his distraction had worked, Alfred took the chance to change the subject and quickly glanced behind them only to see that the guards were still in pursuit and dangerously advancing. "Holy cow, did they send the army after us?!" he gawked upon seeing that the number of faeries has somehow increased. Arthur refused to open his eyes but he had a pretty good idea what it looked like behind them.

The sharp turns and manoeuvring made Arthur cling to Alfred as if his life depended on it. They rode in tense silence, listening to the occasional commands for them to stop from the guards, when Alfred asked over the wind, "What exactly do we do when we get back to that place?"

Arthur sharply lifted his head to gawk. "You mean you told the bird to fly back without knowing why?!"

"It's not like I had the time to ask!" Alfred retorted.

Huffing and allowing the excuse, Arthur thought back to his previous assumptions. "There should be a portal on one of the trees back there. If we go through that, we'll change back to normal and end up near the faerie ring."

"You sure?"

Arthur hesitated.

". . . Arthur?"

"It's. . . just a hunch, actually."

Alfred sputtered. "So that means you're not sure either?!" He looked over at the farm boy with mild irritation on his face. "And you blame _me _for not being completely sure?!"

"W-Well I didn't have time to confirm it either! And it's our best bet right now so it's better than nothing!" He paused. Arthur peeked an eye open to see Alfred judging expression. "Oh shut up about it and steer properly! Keep your eyes in front! This would all be for nothing if you crash us into a tree or something stupid like that." He used a shaking hand to forcibly push the boy's disbelieving face away.

Although Alfred wanted so badly to snap back and resist, he obeyed. After all, he was doing much more than just steering them in a straight path. He needed to concentrate. Doing his best to remember the evasive manoeuvres he had been taught by his father so long ago as well as some self defence strategies while on horseback taught by his trainer, Alfred was zipping over and under every root, branch, and tight crevice he could find in attempts to lose the faeries chasing them. Travelling in large numbers were putting the guards at a disadvantage and eventually, the distance between them and the boys grew large enough that Alfred eventually lost sight of them.

By the time they arrived at their destination, they couldn't even hear the hum of the faeries' wings. Landing, the two boys scrambled off the bird and Arthur led them to the spot where he remembered he saw the strange shimmer. Alfred stayed a little bit behind to stand guard while Arthur looked for the portal.

"It should be somewhere around here if I remember right. . ." Arthur mumbled to himself as he desperately scanned the area for the exit.

"Arthur!" Alfred whined from his position. "Hurry up!" He restlessly stood on his tiptoes to try and see if the faeries had found them yet, nervously glancing around. "Did you find it yet?" he called over his shoulder.

There was an uncomfortable pause. ". . . It's not here."

Alfred quickly turned around. "What?"

Arthur's complexion had paled and his green eyes were wide as he stared back Alfred. "The portal. It's. . . not here anymore."

"What?!" Alfred shouted, running over. "What do you mean it's not here anymore?! Are you sure you looked everywhere?!"

"I did, I swear!" Arthur insisted, giving another desperate look-around as if to prove his point.

"But it couldn't have just disappeared!"

Arthur knew the younger boy was right, but it still didn't explain where the portal he had seen earlier disappeared off to. "Are you sure your bird took us to the right place?" he asked, quite pointlessly since he already knew their location was no mistake.

"Yeah!" Alfred looked around and pointed out a familiar looking object. "Look, there's the acorn I found earlier!"

Arthur gave out a frustrated sigh and mumbled a few incoherent curses under his breath. He had the gut feeling that their time was already running out and it wouldn't be long until the soldiers found them. Pacing around in a tight circle, he pulled at his hair to try and think of any other possibilities to escape.

Keep flying? But where would they go?

Hide? For how long?

Go back and apologize? Pretend that they just snuck away because they were desperate enough to leave the high table to fly the hummingbirds? Arthur snorted; not when he had his little accident to prove otherwise.

"Arthur?" Alfred interrupted the older boy's thoughts. "Maybe we can just – _whoa_!"

Startled, Arthur looked up to see what had caused Alfred to cry out so suddenly. Thick roots were surfacing from the dirt to wrap themselves around the Prince's legs, slowly spiralling their way up until his arms were bound to his sides.

"Alfred!" Arthur called out, scrambling to help him. But his efforts were futile when he discovered that his own legs were being chained to the ground.

The two struggled – arms wriggling, legs kicking – but to no avail. Eventually, everything from their chest down was encased like a cocoon and they were being lifted a little off the ground. Neither of them were able to move anything except their shoulders and head.

"My, my, what unique specimens of flowers we have here," a bell-like voice called out from in front of them. Both boys had been so occupied in struggling against their restraints that they had failed to notice other individuals arriving.

The Queen stood proudly in front of her perfectly lined up army with the messenger standing beside her with an equally regal air. When she moved to approach the human boys, her hazel eyes held a gaze hot enough to rival the breath of dragons. Taking her time, as if examining precious items at a market, Titania turned to look at each boy in turn, an amused smile plastered on her face. Alfred shivered and looked away when their eyes met. Had her smile always looked so cold?

The Queen seemed pleased and even giggled to herself as she looked over her captives. "I'm sure your mothers have taught you manners, yes? That leaving so abruptly without the consent of your host is rather rude?" Neither boys replied.

The Queen daintily clasped her hands together and began to slowly pace between the two with a thoughtful expression on her face. "Although I suppose I must thank you two for that spectacular chase before as you gave my soldiers quite the drill. They lacked excitement for a while now and were getting quite restless." A collective chuckle sounded from said soldiers and the Queen's smile only widened at the boys' unresponsiveness.

"Why are you doing this?" Arthur demanded, unamused.

The Queen's smile didn't waver. "It's quite a long story. Are you sure you're willing to spare time to listen to it? I thought you were in a hurry to escape from here."

"As if you'd let us."

"Quite right, Arthur dear," Titania giggled. "I suppose it _is_ a little hard for you in your. . . current situation." She gave the boys a judging look before saying, "Well, I suppose I can let you down as long as you promise not to run."

"There wouldn't be anywhere to run to," Arthur pointed out.

The Queen giggled again, clearly delighted. "Right again, my dear. Your intelligence and maturity were always your strong points. I'm sure you've figured out by now that the portal you were looking for is under my control. I decide when to open and close it."

"So you really intended to trap us here?!" Alfred blurted out at the Queen.

She looked over at him. "Oh Alfred, my prince, don't have such a hurt expression. It was really just for precautions. I just wasn't sure whether or not you'd be willing to help me when I ask of you." She paused. "And I really _do_ need your help."

"My help with what?" Alfred hesitantly asked.

Titania began to pace again. "You see Alfred, faeries weren't always this small. We were once the same size as humans and had a kingdom quite like the Four right now. However my kingdom had been larger, greater, and older. That is, it was before a few centuries ago when my husband decided to get _intimate _with the King of Spades' daughter." Her smile twisted into a bitter expression. "Once the King found out, he was furious. Using his best magicians, he casted a curse on us. Not only did it make us small, but powerless as well. Our magic would no longer be strong enough to effect those bigger than us. And so, the King was able to take our land and make it into what you know today as the Kingdom of Spades."

Alfred tried to process the information. "So. . . why do you need me?"

The possessive look returned to the Queen's hazel eyes as she laid them on the Prince. His cocoon began to lower to her height as she walked towards him with a pale hand reached out to caress his cheek. "In order for us to be free of the curse, we need the blood of the current King of Spades in power to permit it."

"But. . . I'm not the King."

"That's true, you're not," the Queen agreed, her eyes glinting. "But you are the _Prince_ of Spades, are you not?" With a flick of her hand, the roots freed Alfred from their grasp and set him on the ground. "Going after the present King of Spades in power would be futile. But when there's an offspring full of innocence and purity. . . it would be _such _a shame to let such an opportunity go, wouldn't you think so?"

Arthur fumed. "You were planning to trap him so you could raise him to help you when he becomes King, weren't you?!"

The Queen looked up at Arthur who was still wrapped up in his cocoon. Her smile had finally dropped and she now wore an expression of boredom. Putting her arms up as if to shrug she said, "Originally, I had a changeling prepared the moment I heard of the Prince's birth, but the King was wise enough to take precautions and prevented any faeries from touching him. It would be a very difficult task to replace a child when it has already grown past the stage of infancy so I spent years thinking of another way. Just when I thought all hope was lost, today my faeries came to me with news that someone had willingly entered a faerie ring. And it was none other than the Prince of Spades himself!" She clapped her hands together gleefully.

"How did they even know it was me?" Alfred asked a little fearfully.

"The crest on the vest you discarded gave you away," the Queen answered. "When I discovered your identity I couldn't just let this chance slip away. So we used magic still left in our faerie rings to bring you into our territory." She glanced over at Arthur. "And you were an added bonus, Arthur dear." The older boy couldn't do anything but glare at his previously admired Queen, no longer on the pedestal she used to be.

"Is that why you made all that food for us?" the Prince asked tearfully. "So you could trick us into eating and trap us here?" The pure look of hurt on Alfred's face made him look all the more desirable for the Queen.

"Like I said before, my Prince, those were just precautions," she waved her hand in dismissal. "I didn't want you walking off like my previous attempts just because they thought my deal was unreasonable. So I thought it'd be best to take action first; talk later." Then the Queen shot Arthur a dirty look. "It was all according to plan until I was found out prematurely."

"So now you have to let us go," Arthur pointed out. "Because we know your plans."

"Oh quite the contrary," the Queen disagreed. "I thought I had made myself quite clear before. I have the Prince of Spades in my grasp. I have no intention of letting such an opportunity go." Her eyes drifted over to meet the fearful blue of the Prince. "If you do not intend to come along willingly, I'm sure we can convince you one way or another. By means of force, if necessary."

A tense silence fell them and Alfred could hear himself swallow thickly. Then the Queen laughed with her bell-like giggle, startling them. "But of course, I doubt things will come to that, right boys?" Her smile had been painted back on her perfect face like it was never gone and the boys remained silent.

Taking their silence as a form of compliance, the Queen let out a sigh of content. "Excellent. It would be a terrible shame to ruin such lovely children." Reaching out, she was about to caress Alfred's cheek again before he abruptly looked up and said, "What if there were other ways for me to help you?"

The Queen withdrew her hand, a look of suspicion making her smile look a little lopsided. "Oh? Such as?"

Alfred worried his bottom lip. "What if. . . I talked to my father? And convinced him to help you instead?"

The Queen's suspicion remained, but behind her hazel eyes was a new glint of curiosity. "That _is_ an interesting proposition."

"Right?!" Alfred smiled, excited that Titania was considering his suggestion. "'Cause that way, it would be faster for you to break the curse."

She nodded slowly. "Yes, it would be faster," the Queen paused, "but what guarantee do I have that your plan will work? Or that you won't run away once I free you?"

Alfred hesitated in answering. Titania was right. There really was no reason why he and Arthur wouldn't make a run for it and abandon everything if they return to normal. So he squarely met the Queen's intimidating gaze and said, "I guess you'll just have to trust me."

A murmur rose from the crowd of soldiers. Some gasped in disbelief while others whistled lowly in admiration. To stand up to the faerie Queen while in her territory was practically putting your life on the line. The messenger looked horrified. The two royalty of different race stared each other down. It was almost laughable this image of a child looking so determinedly up at an adult, but the tension woven thickly through the air said otherwise.

Just when it seemed like the Queen was going to snap, her stance relaxed and she backed down. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. "Very well. If you deem yourself worthy of my trust, Prince of Spades, then trust is what I will give you. Do you swear to fulfill your promise, Alfred?" Alfred nodded firmly. "Excellent. Because if you don't accomplish what you promised to do by the time you become king. . . ," the Queen stepped closer and leaned over the boy, casting a shadow over him while she trailed her knuckle on his cheek, "it will be _you _I will be coming after. And I won't be too happy either, understand?" Alfred nodded again, slower this time with a nervous expression on his face.

Drifting her gaze delicately to the side, she waved her hand as if opening a curtain. With a gentle popping sound and a soft breeze, a portal appeared a few feet away from them, shimmering under the falling afternoon sun. "As long as there isn't anything that binds you to my kingdom, you and Arthur are free to leave." With one look directed at the bound farm boy, his cocoon slowly began to descend to the ground.

The Queen looked over at Alfred again. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to convince you to stay? Or at least let me offer you any food or drinks before you leave?"

"Not if we can't leave after eating or drinking them," Alfred smiled. He turned to reunite with Arthur until he suddenly remembered something upon seeing the older boy who was almost free from his cocoon. Fear gripped his chest. "Wait. . . Arthur?" Their eyes met. "Didn't you drink nectar when you got here?" There was a second of processing silence before Alfred fearfully turned towards the Queen for some kinds of reassurance.

Titania's look of confusion quickly changed to shock when Alfred turned to look at her, a delicate hand gently placed over her mouth as if to demonstrate just how horrified she was. "Oh dear," she sighed. "If Arthur drank nectar then he has no choice but to stay behind. But then again, this won't deter with your ability to go through with you promise so there's nothing to worry about, right Alfred dear?"

Arthur frowned. "What? No Alfred, don't listen to her! She's-!" A leaf that had spawned from the remaining twigs wrapped around him and silenced him from finishing his sentence. He struggled against it but his hands were still bound. His cries remained muffled as he attempted to get Alfred's attention. However, the Queen already had a firm grasp on it and had no intention of letting it go.

"So Alfred, what are you waiting for? You can go right ahead and leave. You wouldn't mind if Arthur stayed behind, correct? After all, your promise was made for your own freedom and has nothing to do with Arthur's involvement," she pointed out with an innocent smile.

Terrified, Alfred finally turned to look at Arthur and was startled to meet his green eyes narrowed dangerously at him; threateningly. Never once did they waver from Alfred's blue ones as they tried to convey his message.

Swallowing hard, Alfred turned back towards the Queen. "If Arthur stays. . . I'll still leave."

The Queen smile dropped quicker than anyone has ever seen. It wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "So you're saying you're willing to leave your friend behind as long as you have your chance for freedom?"

"Well like you said, Arthur doesn't have anything to do with my promise. And if he's trapped here forever then there's nothing I can do about it," Alfred shrugged indifferently. "That is. . . unless you're willing to let him go."

"And what merit do I get from letting him free?"

Alfred thought for an answer a little nervously. "Uh. . . my gratitude and a better guarantee that I'll stick to my promise?"

"You're threatening me that you won't go through with your promise if I don't let Arthur free?"

"You need me, don't you? Wouldn't it be better if you agree with what I want if you want to get what _you _want?"

More hushed murmurs of shock rose from the crowd and even louder than before. A _child _dared to speak that way to a reigning monarch? Outrageous! The Queen was sure to snap this time.

However to everyone's surprise, Titania actually _laughed_. And that was something quite rare to witness indeed. Wiping tears away from her eyes, the Queen smiled down at the young Prince of Spades with more natural fondness than anyone has seen all day. "You are a frightful one, Prince of Spades, and will make a wondrous king. You have fire I used to have back when I was younger. How nostalgic." With a flick of her finger at Arthur's direction, he was finally free from his binds. Alfred ran at him happily, arms out to hug him before Arthur smacked him upside the head.

"What the hell were you thinking?! Don't you know anything?" he scolded. "Nectar is the one thing that won't trap humans to the faerie world! It's the main ingredient to a lot of the kingdom's medicine, didn't your tutors ever teach you that?"

"Seriously?!" Alfred gaped. This caused all the soldiers to burst out in laughter, making the young Prince blush up to his ears. The Queen smiled along with them, but seemed to have an apology buried deep behind her eyes. Alfred ducked his head in embarrassment and turned away from them.

Arthur rolled his eyes but held back from saying anything more. After all Alfred was the one who talked their way out of being trapped in the faerie kingdom forever. He used a hand to gently push Alfred towards the portal. "You're an idiot," he said lightly. "Let's get out of here while we still can."

They were about to jump into the portal when the Queen called out Alfred's name. Her hazel eyes burned into him as she warned him a final time. "Remember your promise, my Prince. You've gambled dangerously today but have earned my trust nonetheless. However, betray it, and you and those around you will suffer from the consequences."

Alfred swallowed and tried to smile. "I'll do my best, Your Majesty."

"Please. Call me Titania."

Feeling uncomfortable that the phrase he once thought was a gesture of friendship now sounded like a challenge, Alfred giggled nervously. When Arthur nudged to get his attention and said, "C'mon let's go," Alfred was more than happy to comply. Together they stepped into the portal and let themselves be consumed in light once more. They were officially free from the faerie Queen's grasp.

Once the boys were gone and the portal was closed, the messenger approached his Queen. "Your Majesty. Are you sure it was wise to simply let Arthur go along with Alfred? You would've been able to have at least one of your prizes and a better way of controlling the Prince."

The Queen sighed. "Yes, you are right in some ways, but so was the young Prince. I have no right making too many harsh demands if I wish for this curse to be broken by his hand."

"But there's also the other issue. Arthur's power-"

"Isn't something I can control," the Queen finished firmly. "It will only grow stronger and if that boy doesn't learn to control it, it would put my people in danger. And that is a risk I'm not willing to take." The messenger nodded in submission and the Queen sighed heavily. Glancing at the twigs that once bound Arthur, she looked sadly upon the erosion on the inside of his cocoon. "I thought keeping him here under my magic will suppress his curse, but I was wrong to assume."

The messenger followed her line of sight and sighed knowingly. "It seems so. However you did try, Your Majesty."

Nodding sadly, the Queen reached down to pick up the leaf that had been wrapped around Arthur's mouth to quiet him. Instead of its previously green colour, the leaf was a hideous brown and crumbled into ashes under the Queen's gentle touch. She sighed again. "So I did. But I suppose only death can save that boy from his doom now."

"So it seems, Your Majesty. So it seems."

* * *

Alfred and Arthur were shot out from the other end of the portal, making them land face first on the ground beside a familiar faerie ring.

Groaning, Arthur coughed from the impact and rolled onto his back, finding himself more than relieved to be back to normal. "Faeries," he coughed. "I suggested nymphs. I suggested brownies. I even suggested trolls, but _no _you just _had _to go meet faeries, didn't you?"

"You suggested it too!"

Arthur groaned. "Now I really wish I didn't."

Giggling, Alfred flipped over to join Arthur in looking at the summer sky feeling just as relieved. "Hey, at least we're back to normal now. And we even got to meet the Faerie Queen!"

Arthur scoffed. "Oh yes, and having her threaten to trap us in her kingdom until she's freed is definitely a plus." Alfred rolled his eyes at the obvious sarcasm. "I didn't think she would be that scary," Arthur shook his head slightly in disbelief and Alfred nodded in agreement.

The two shared a comfortable silence, relishing the feeling of being normally-sized humans. "But I think I'm gonna miss riding on the hummingbirds," Alfred piped up.

Arthur didn't attempt to hide his disapproval and made a noise at the back of his throat. "They were beautiful creatures, but I never want to be on one ever again."

Alfred snickered. "Yeah, 'cause you threw up in front of everyone after you did."

The older boy groaned even louder and turned onto his side so that his back was facing the Prince. "Don't remind me."

"Great first impression, I mean, really. It's not every day you get to throw up in front of a Queen-"

"Alfred. . . "

"-or an entire faerie kingdom."

"Alfred."

"Oh man, just thinking about how many people saw that makes me feel-"

"Alfred, if you don't shut up within the next second I will personally make sure your head will be another toadstool in that faerie ring."

Alfred snorted. ". . . And you say the Faerie Queen's scary."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Arthur grinned as he sat up in search of his forgotten notebook. Finding it just an arm's reach away, he stretched over to grab it and put it back onto his lap. Today's adventure was definitely something he was going to record in great detail. Not that he was going to forget it anytime soon.

He glanced over at Alfred who looked like he was about to doze off under the sun. Shaking the boy to his senses, Arthur got up and dusted himself off. "We should be getting back now before people start to wonder why we've been gone for so long."

Moaning in complaint, Alfred regretfully climbed to his feet. He felt like his free time was just getting started and he had to go back already? Groaning dramatically he teetered over to pick up his forgotten vest, careful not to step into the ring this time, and hurried back to join Arthur.

But before he did, he heard a familiar chorus of giggling behind him. Turning, Alfred saw a small group of faeries watching him from behind the bushes. One of them waved to him. "Come play with us again soon!"

Grinning, Alfred nodded and waved back. Remembering that he could see faeries now rejuvenated him all over again and he giddily skipped over to Arthur's side. The older boy looked at him questioningly but decided not to ask. After today's adventure, he was too tired to really care anymore. Let the boy grin like an idiot for all he cared.

* * *

Around the same time, the King of Spades had finally returned to his palace after his trip to the Kingdom of Clubs and immediately requested the presence of his Queen and Jack. The Queen didn't need her physic powers to know the purpose of this meeting wasn't anything good. Yao's downcast expression when he told her was enough.

Currently, both were watching the King pace thunderously across his study, a dark frown etched into his face. The silence was thick; so much that one could drown in it.

But although the suspense was rising, the Queen had entered the room with her heart already sunk in dread. The purpose of this meeting wasn't to introduce a new problem, but to announce the results of the action they took in attempts to solve one. Clearly, the results weren't positive and she could hear every curse the King bottled up inside his head.

The Queen sighed heavily and thought back to the day she received the letter from her King at lunchtime. She had met with him that night to discuss the contents of the document and she remembered the events with a heavy heart.

_"What is the meaning of this letter, dear?" the Queen asked upon entering the King's study and carefully closing the door behind her. _

_The King solemnly looked up at her from his seat behind his desk, the light coming from the single candle in his lamp casting aging shadows on his weary face. Sighing through his nose, he turned his eyes to stare at the paper reports on his desk. "It is exactly as the letter said. The damn Clubs attacked our northern border, stealing a significant amount of food supply as well as destroying our northern military base." _

_"Were there any fatalities?" _

_"Fortunately there were none, but many are injured. Not to mention, not only did we lose the harvest we stocked up for the upcoming winter, but we also lost a large portion of our weaponry which means our northern border has weakened exponentially and leaves us practically defenseless." There was a heavy silence before it was abruptly shattered by the King's fist being brought down onto his desk. "Damn it! We should've been prepared for this!"_

_"But there's not much we could've done if they took us by surprise."_

_"That's not the issue," the King hissed furiously. "I should've never trusted that damn King of Clubs! We had agreed to mutually benefit from one another – our technology for their harvest – and now he dares to use our own weapons against us?! To steal our food that's already scarce?! And leave us defenceless?" His fist punched the desk again hard enough to almost make the ground shake. _

_The Queen, used to seeing her husband's fury, sighed in worry for another reason. "And we were so close to paying back our debt to the Diamonds too_. . ._"_

"_This is the last straw. I can no longer continue ruling a kingdom like this so long as the Clubs continue to torture us like we're their colony."_

"_But dear, if we don't remain on good terms with them, our people will most likely starve. We need their surplus of harvest-"_

"_To hell with their harvest! It isn't like we can't grow food of our own. We'll just continue to reduce our rations."_

"_The people have already protested against the last cut we had and besides, it wouldn't be enough-"_

"_Then we'll just have to make sacrifices!" the King burst. "Damn it, don't you see how cornered we are?! Any longer and we'll lose our respect as a kingdom and as monarchs. As Spades' current King I refuse to let the work of my fathers and forefathers be for nothing under my rule."_

_The Queen gazed sadly at her King, but nodded. "I understand, dear. But won't you please consider meeting with the King of Clubs before making any final decisions? After all, how can we be sure that it was the Clubs' doing?"_

"_My soldiers reported seeing their crest on the men's uniforms-"_

"_But from direct orders from the King? It could very well just be bandits dressed in their garb or a vengeful group of citizens."_

"_And it could very well be a form of aggression from the King."_

"_But you don't know that," she pointed out. Sighing, the Queen walked over to his side and placed a gentle hand over his fist. "Please at least meet with them before deciding anything. We don't want to start another war over something that could be frivolous." _

_The King rose and moved away from the Queen's touch. "You're too naïve, my Queen. You think everything can be solved through useless chattering and without the need to use force. The world you imagine is wonderful, but we do not live in such perfection." _

"_You speak as though I know nothing, but you forget I've seen worse sights than you in my youth. I was not brought with the luxury I'm blessed with today, but it's because of the horrors I've witnessed that I do not wish to repeat such tragedies. Please, won't you consider it?"_

_The silence returned. Several emotions flashed on the King's face, but finally he sighed in resignation. "If that's what my Queen wishes. But if negotiations do not go well, I cannot guarantee that I will restrain myself from taking action against them." _

_The King finally stopped pacing around his study and placed his hands on the table with his head ducked as if to calm himself. "That bastard refused to admit he had anything to do with the raid even though I had eyewitnesses that say otherwise. No matter what I said, he wouldn't say anything to acknowledge it ever happened."_

_Yao hurriedly interjected. "Your Majesty, I didn't say anything beforehand because I feared it would weaken your argument, but there's nothing to link those people to the King. They could've been acting on their own will."_

_"Even so, a King needs to control his people! If his people are acting outside his knowledge then he needs to take responsibility!" the King argued._

_"But to threaten him with war-"_

_"Is perfectly reasonable from my perspective," he interrupted bitterly._

_"Please think logically, Your Majesty. In what way will a war benefit this kingdom right now? We've just lost a great amount of food supply and with our main food trade partner as the potential enemy, there is very little guarantee that we will come out of a war victorious."_

_"Then we'll make do with what we already have."_

_"And lose strength halfway through the war? You would be willing to stop in the middle of battle, retreat and surrender because we don't have enough food to support our soldiers?"_

_"No, of course not!"_

_"Then there is no point in starting a war, Your Majesty!" Yao furiously insisted._

_"Have you forgotten the incidents before this one? You're saying that I should just stay idle while that bastard continues to mock me?!"_

_"I'm not suggesting that at all, but to start a war over this one demonstration of force will not be enough for the people to fight for you."_

_"This one demonstration of force is putting us deeper into debt and the people deeper into hunger. How is that not enough to motivate the people of Spades to fight?!"_

_"Because we have no solid proof that it was the Clubs' doing! Like the King said, you could've paid them to say those things for all they know!"_

_Then the King of Spades let out a growl of frustration and turned away from his Jack to start pacing again. "Goddamn it Yao, who's side are you on?" he spat. But he knew his Jack was right. Nonetheless, there was a wild restlessness that wouldn't go away no matter how strong his reasoning fought against it._

_Needing some closure, the King turned to his Queen who had been silently watching him the whole time. "And you, my Queen? What say you?"_

_She gave the man a calculating look before answering. "The pact we made with them is to be renewed every ten years which leaves about eight years until the next meeting." The Queen shot the King a look before he could retort. "Although you may not wish to wait for so long, I only suggest waiting until then for the sake of our people. Just like Yao said, if we start a war now, the people will not stand by your decision. A kingdom is built by its people and recklessly sending them to the front lines only for them to be killed from lack of food and motivation would send this monarchy into ruin. Not to mention assure our enemies of victory._

_"If we wait – and this is assuming the King of Clubs is actually behind this recent raid – then they're sure to attack again. If we wait it out until they grow frustrated, they will begin to make mistakes in hiding their tracks, making it easier for us to gather more proof."_

_The King stared for a while before letting loose a wry smirk, his anger now dimmed to irritation. "You truly are fit to be the Queen of Spades. Pity you couldn't be there with us as your power would've helped us greatly."_

_"You know very well any meeting of monarchs are under a nullification barrier," the Queen pointed out._

_Chuckling tiredly, the King nodded. Letting out a sigh as if he was trying to exhale out all his stress, he sat into his chair with a huff. "Very well. Although I feel like I will go mad by the time of the pact's renewal, I will wait it out and record any other incidents if they occur. I just hope that our efforts will not be in vain. For if our alliance is betrayed_. . . _war will be inevitable."_

* * *

"Say, Alfred. . . How did you know to say that you weren't going to stay if I was trapped there?"

Alfred looked over at the older boy, grinning. "I could tell from the way you were glaring at me. I could totally see you saying 'Don't you dare say you'll stay because of me or else I'll kill you myself'."

Arthur blushed and turned away. "I. . . didn't say that much."

Laughing, Alfred slapped a hand on Arthur's back, causing the other to stumble. "Sure you didn't. I can read you like a book!"

Rubbing the sore spot on his back, Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Really now?"

"Well, you glare at me so often, how can I not? I know all your different glares instantly by now."

Arthur huffed, unamused and Alfred pointed at his expression. "See _that _one means 'I don't glare that often', right?"

Arthur bristled, face darkening in colour. "Why you-!" He attempted to swat Alfred upside the head, but the Prince dodged easily, predicting the move. Determined to get in a hit, Arthur chased after him. "Get over here and let me hit you!"

Alfred laughed as he raced ahead. "As if! You gotta catch me first!"

"You know you run faster than me!" Arthur complained, but chased after him nonetheless. The two eventually made it back to their apple tree where Alfred collapsed at its base, trying to catch his breath and giggling like mad. Arthur stood nearby, hands on his knees, bent over and gasping for air.

Alfred turned to say something, but stopped himself, catching the smile on Arthur's usually serious face, now flushed from running. Arthur's pale blond hair was more disheveled than usual, strands pointing in every direction, and his bangs were parted from the wind. When Arthur looked up and accidentally caught Alfred's gaze, Alfred could see his green eyes sparkle. He had probably been staring too long, as Arthur asked, "What is it? Is there something on my face?"

At the question, Alfred immediately looked away, whipping his head in the other direction. "N-Nothing! Just. . . saw that you had grass in your hair, is all."

Arthur frowned and reached a hand to dust off his hair. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he lightly accused.

Alfred laughed, sounding a little tight. "Hahaha, sorry," he apologized, still not turning his head. Instead, he was wondering about the strange thoughts popping up _in _his head. Since when did he pay that much attention to the details of someone's face? And why did he look away suddenly as if he was doing something wrong? His heart was only beating this fast because of the running, right? What other reason could there be anyway?

He heard Arthur sigh. "Well, guess that's enough adventure for today. I'm exhausted."

Alfred took this chance to push away the troubled thoughts. He sat up. "Yeah, I guess I should be heading back to the castle now. Will I see you tomorrow?"

Arthur was about to say yes like usual, but then he remembered what his mom had reminded him this morning. "I can't tomorrow," he said a little sadly, "or for the rest of the week."

"What?!" Alfred looked over, distressed. "Why not?!"

"I have to help my mom and everyone else to prepare for Spades Day," Arthur explained.

Alfred pouted. "Aww, but I wanted you to help me prepare for my birthday!"

"Oh, you're birthday? When is it?"

"Spades Day!"

". . . What?"

"Yeah! Didn't you know? I have the same birthday as Spades!" Alfred grinned.

"Really?! Wow, I-. . . I had no idea."

Alfred's smile dampened into a sad laugh. "Yeah, apparently a lot of the villagers don't know. For them it's all about celebrating the kingdom's birthday and they've completely forgotten about mine."

Arthur scratched the back of his head, feeling a little awkward seeing the bubbly Prince so mellow. He was never good at consolidating someone. "Well, the kingdom has been around a lot longer than you have," he joked, giving Alfred's arm a little punch.

"Ow," Alfred laughed, rubbing the spot. "I guess so. But that gives you all the more reason to come to my party!"

"But won't you have more. . . important people there? Like other royalty?"

"But you _are_ important!" Alfred insisted, a tad confused as to how the older boy was so oblivious.

"I am?"

"Yeah! You're my best friend!"

That caused Arthur to sputter. "W-What?"

"You're my best friend!" Alfred repeated. But he hesitated a little after seeing Arthur's baffled expression. ". . . Aren't you?"

Arthur's mouth gaped like a fish for a few seconds before he managed to stutter out, "Y-yeah! . . . Yeah of-of course!" To be honest he was still trying to get a good grasp on the situation.

But Alfred didn't give him time to recover. Instantly happier, he beamed as he jumped into Arthur for a hug. "Yay! I'm so happy!" Letting go, he ran over to the path of stones in the river and practically skipped across, ignoring Arthur's worried cries that he'll slip. Once he reached the other side, Alfred turned around and called over, "Meet me by the front gates of the castle at nine that day!" Not even waiting for an answer, he turned and disappeared into the forest.

All alone now, it took a few seconds before everything clicked in Arthur's head. Feeling his face flush, he yelled after Alfred, "D-Don't just say something like that and leave, you idiot! I didn't even say yes!" But Alfred was long gone. Flustered and not liking the feeling of being so, Arthur grumbled to himself before yelling out again. "F-Fine! I'll go but not for your sake, you got that?!"

Huffing from a swirl of emotions, he turned on his heels and stomped his way back home. When his mother questioned why his face was so flushed, he hurriedly muttered an excuse and ran upstairs to his room, flopping himself on the bed face-first. Flipping onto his back so that he was staring up at the ceiling, Arthur wondered why he couldn't stop the bubbly feeling in his stomach. Wasn't he supposed to feel annoyed that Alfred demanded things out of him on a whim? But the sensation grew stronger and stronger, bubbling upwards until it bloomed across his face in a smile.

There was finally someone who considered him a friend. He had a friend!

And not just any friend.

But for the first time in his life, he finally had a _best _friend. Any negative feelings Arthur had towards Alfred were then completely forgotten.

* * *

**Happy New Year everyone!**

**Sorry for the long absence. I know I promised this chapter right after the previous one, but I was hit multiple times with severe writer's block and had to change a lot of things in the plot, elongating the process. Here's to hoping it doesn't happen again.**

**But here it is! A super long, 9000 words, chapter as an apology! **

**Let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Your Highness, I _implore_ you to stand still for just for a few more minutes!" The palace tailor huffed in exasperation as the Prince continued to do the exact opposite.

"But I've been standing here for more than an hour!" Alfred whined, wriggling away from another pin threatening to prod at him.

The tailor clicked her tongue. "Don't exaggerate, Your Highness. It's been less than 10 minutes."

"But it _feels _like it's been over an hour."

"Well it's going to feel even longer if you keep squirming around like that!" she huffed, finally able to slip that last pin in. Standing up to give a full-body scan of her work, she smiled at the result. "Alright I'm done. Why don't you take a look in the mirror and tell me what you think?"

When Alfred turned towards the mirror behind him, his mouth turned upwards into a grin. "Oh wow, it's awesome!" he praised. "I think it's gonna be my new favourite!"

"Pleased that you think so, Your Highness. Now wasn't standing for 10 minutes was worth it?" The tailor smirked through the mirror's reflection, unaffected by Alfred's tongue sticking out at her. "You can take it off now that we're done. I'll finalize the adjustments. You're free to go!"

Alfred cheered and began to carefully peel the clothing away so the pins wouldn't poke him anymore than they already have. He winced as he felt their sharpness drag across his skin. "Why don't you just use magic like you usually do when making our clothes? It would've been a lot less painful for the both of us."

The tailor laughed. "Only for you, Your Highness. Unlike you, I actually enjoy this. Besides, it's tradition that the clothing worn on a monarch's birthday are made by hand, don't you remember?" She began to gather her materials. "Personally I prefer taking the time to make them without magic. I think it's more skillful that way. But alas, not all my clients are as patient as you are." She gave the Prince a wink and Alfred laughed.

He finally freed himself from his custom-made garbs and changed back into his regular attire, sighing at the familiar, worn brush of fabric against his skin. Putting on his shoes and socks, he waved at the tailor as he approached the door. "Then I'll be off! Thanks for today!"

The tailor answered, "I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'll be back to present the finished product to you and your parents."

Alfred hesitated. ". . . 'Kay! I'll see you tomorrow then." Slipping out the door, he made his way down the carpeted hallway. After he was out of earshot, he mumbled, "It's not like Father would care all that much anyway." Despite it being protocol for the palace tailor to present their finished works to the King and Queen whenever they tailored for their children, Alfred's father rarely made an appearance. What made it even harder to understand was that the King used to be very involved in matters concerning his son in the past, but within the past few years, attendance had drastically decreased.

Feeling considerably more downhearted than before just thinking about it, Alfred decided to visit the kitchens for something – specifically something _edible _– to cheer him up. Besides, he had walked out of his tailoring session without a destination in mind in the first place.

Making his way through the corridors, Alfred found it a little eerie how quiet the usually bustling palace was today. All the servants were too occupied setting things up for his birthday tomorrow and were all gathered on the lower levels preparing food and decorations. His mother was probably observing the preparations and his father was most likely in his study preparing his annual Spades Day speech. Even Alfred's lessons were cancelled for today, leaving him completely free. Not to mention completely bored.

As he made his way into the kitchens, the volume of servants dramatically increased, but none of them really paid the young Prince any recognition. In their defence, they could hardly see him over the piles of food and decorations they were carrying. Trying to avoid being trampled on, Alfred grabbed the first thing he saw and squeezed his way back out, escaping to another wing of the grand palace where he knew he wouldn't see too many people. For once, he didn't really feel like talking.

Biting into the pastry he managed to take, Alfred was surprised to find it apple flavoured. Instantly he thought back to the apple tree and a certain grumpy blonde with bushy eyebrows.

It's been almost a week since Alfred last saw Arthur, but it felt like years had already passed for the Prince and quite frankly, he was missing his best friend. A _lot_. Even pranking Yao wasn't as fun as it used to be. Sighing to himself, Alfred pouted as he wandered through the corridors, eventually finding himself face to face with the palace gardens. Whenever Alfred got bored or lonely, this is where he sought comfort. Ever since he met Arthur and the two explored the wonders of Arthur's journal, every flower, magic, beast and the like reminded the young Prince of his first and only friend. What made it even more special was that his mother used to play with him here before she got sick. This garden was hers.

Squinting a little through the sunlight, Alfred brushed his hand through a small patch of perennials, feeling the pollen on his fingers as he swallowed the remainder of his pastry. Mentally listing the names of the flowers he managed to memorize, Alfred realized that there were many in the garden he hadn't seen in Arthur's book, and vice versa, flowers in the journal that weren't planted in the garden.

'_I should show these to Arthur when he comes tomorrow!' _Alfred thought excitedly. He couldn't help but wonder if seeing the garden would make Arthur happy.

Alfred just leisurely wandered around the gardens for a few minutes when he spotted a cat grooming itself in his path. A large smile spread across his face when the Prince recognized it to be the white and grey cat he's always seen roaming around the palace grounds. The feline lifted his head towards the boy, sensing his presence, and made his way towards him. Wrapping himself around the Prince's legs, he purred happily.

Giggling, Alfred bent down to pet him. "Hey there big guy! It's been a while. Gosh, you're as chubby as ever, huh?" The cat's purring cut off immediately as he looked up at Alfred with an offended expression. Then he simply trotted off, leaving the Prince in its wake. Alfred only laughed. "Aw c'mon, you know I was just teasing!" he called, following him. The cat turned around to look at him and after a moment of consideration, walked back towards the boy, forgiving him.

But as the feline approached, Alfred noticed something was off. "Hey, you okay? You're limping." He knelt down, trying to get a better look. Cradling the cat against him, Alfred scanned him. It wasn't long before he found an ugly gash on one of his hind legs. Alfred grimaced.

It wasn't bleeding and looked a few days old, but the wound looked infected and swollen, blistering painfully. Just looking at it made Alfred's heart sting. He couldn't imagine what it would be like walking around on it. "Who did this to you? A dog? Why didn't you say anything sooner?! We have to get you to the Healer before this gets any worse than it already has."

Alfred tried to pick him up, but the cat was having none of it. Pushing against Alfred's hold, the cat wriggled endlessly. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get picked up, but you shouldn't walk! I _have_ to carry you!" He tried to reason with the complaining feline, grunting from the effort. "Ugh, you're heavy. Work with me here!"

"My my, is the young Prince becoming senile already? At such a young age? How worrisome it is for me to find his Royal Highness bickering with a cat." Alfred looked up in surprise to see Yao's amused face watching him from the garden entrance. With the boy momentarily distracted, the cat used this as a chance to escape from Alfred's hold, giving one final leap as it dashed into the flower beds and disappeared from sight.

"He was injured! I was just taking him to see the Healer, but he wouldn't let me carry him so I was just trying to calm him down." Alfred huffed, frustrated that he had lost the struggle.

"So I don't need to call a psychologist?"

Alfred glared. "No."

"Are you sure?" Yao raised an amused eyebrow. "This wouldn't be the first time I've found you speaking to-"

"I'm fine!" Alfred huffed again, ignoring the Jack's snickering. "What do you want, Yao?"

"Aiya, someone's in a huffy mood today. Still as childish as ever." But before Alfred could retort, Yao continued, "Your father wants to see you."

Alfred froze mid exhale. ". . . F-Father?" Yao nodded and gestured for the young Prince to follow him. Alfred's heart sank as he hurried to catch up to the already moving Jack.

"Why. . . does he want to see me?" Alfred asked hesitantly, nervously looking up at the older man. The only times the King ever called for Alfred's presence was when the Prince was in trouble or when he was asked to do something duty-wise, which more often than not, is something Alfred's reluctant on doing.

"You'll see when we get there," was Yao's easy answer.

Alfred swallowed. _'That doesn't sound good. . .'_

* * *

"Enter."

Hearing his father's deep voice easily pierce the thick, wooden material of the door made Alfred's heart clench in automatic fear. Swallowing thickly, he followed Yao into the King's study, shrinking into the Jack's shadow. It wasn't long until the Jack moved out of the way to reveal the small boy behind him to the King. Exposed to his father's unreadable gaze, Alfred looked up at the King standing behind his desk. When their eyes met, Alfred immediately tensed.

The silence lasted a few seconds too long so Yao nudged at the tongue-tied Prince, snapping him out of it. Remembering his manners, Alfred cleared his throat and bowed slightly in greeting. "Hello, Father. You called for me?"

The King hummed affirmatively and looked down at his son. "Alfred, I'm sure you are aware of the party tomorrow that's to be held for your birthday as well as to honor the 'birth date' of Spades?"

Right into business it seems. "Yes, Father."

"And I'm sure that there's no need for me, your mother or Yao to remind you to be on your best behaviour?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good, because I need you to do something for me." Alfred's heart sunk. He knew it. Their past few exchanges for years now have always just been business for the two of them after all. This summoning wouldn't be any different. "Tomorrow, at the party, I need you to particularly mind your manners around the children of the other kingdoms who will be attending. Be nice and courteous to all of them. . . " the King paused, "including Ivan. _Especially_ Ivan." Alfred's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest, but the King raised a hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear any complaints from you about this matter. I want you to know that-"

"But Father! Ivan?!" Alfred blurted.

"Alfred. . ." the King warned.

"Him of all people?!"

"Alfred, what did I just sa-"

"You know how much we don't like each other! And last time he almost broke my nose!"

"Alfred, I'm not tolerating-"

"He didn't even say sorry!"

"Alfred-"

"I've tried to be nice to him before, but we never agree on anything-"

"Alfred."

"-and he always has that creepy smile on his face-"

"Alfred, that's _enough_!" the King slammed a fist down on his table, abruptly cutting the Prince off and stunning him into silence. The air soon filled with tension and aside from Alfred hearing his own racing heartbeat in his ears, a deep inhale could be heard from the King, no doubt to calm himself down. Alfred worried his bottom lip, knowing that he had practically dug his own grave.

The King squeezed his eyes shut for a quick second and reopened them with newfound strength. With it, a much harder wall to crack from persuasion. He stared his son down with cold, blue eyes. Maybe it was because Alfred hadn't seen his father in such a long time, but the boy thought his father looked significantly older than when he last saw him. "Alfred, this is not a request, but an order. Might I remind you that you are the Prince of Spades; a prince to the most powerful kingdom of the Four? You have no excuse running away from your responsibilities and duty just because you simply 'don't get along' with a fellow monarch. Your behaviour tomorrow will greatly influence the fate of this country as well as our already delicate relationship with the Clubs, do you understand?"

"Please, Father, can't you just-"

"_Do you understand?!_" he roared.

Alfred stared wide-eyed, alarmed and extremely frightened, at the sight and sound of his father's rage. Feeling the back of his eyes sting, he looked down at his feet. ". . . Yes, Father."

The King sighed wearily and pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning. "Remember that one day you will no longer be a prince, Alfred, but the _King_ of Spades. I will not pass down the throne to a son who acts so childishly and refuses to grow up!"

Alfred glared at his feet, wounded and bitter. "And what if I don't want the throne?" he mumbled under his breath.

But the moment he let those words slip, he immediately regretted it. The already thick tension surrounding them increased tenfold and with added electricity. Alfred could feel his hands grow sweaty as the silence seemed to drag on forever.

"In that case," the King finally replied, voice icy, "you are no son of mine."

* * *

Sprinting down the familiar forest path, Alfred furiously wiped away the tears that blurred his vision. He needed to get away, escape. Go anywhere as long as it meant getting away from the palace. His clothes were soiled from grass stains and mud after tripping several times beforehand, but Alfred didn't care. It didn't matter that his body ached and his hands stung or that he almost ran into several trees because of how much speed he's accumulated. Alfred just wanted to run away; as if physically distancing himself will get rid of his father's lingering presence and heartless words.

But in reality, Alfred only had one place to run to; the place he's always sought comfort from. When the familiar view of the grand apple tree appeared through that last wall of trees and shrubbery, Alfred eagerly – almost desperately – jumped across the river and stopped in front of it, panting. He took a few seconds to take in the view, tilting his head up in attempts to take in the tree and its entirety. The sunlight streamed in broken fragments through the gaps between the leaves and when the breeze blew through its branches, the rich, comforting sounds of rustling leaves helped lull the anger and sadness in Alfred's heart. Trying catch his breath, Alfred turned his head back towards the way he came, seeing the top of the palace walls above the trees. When he caught sight of Spades' royal flag waving to him in the wind, the King's words flooded back into his mind and the anger surged through him again. The way its golden symbol glittered in the sun seemed to almost mock him.

Alfred angrily wiped the tears that resurfaced. He let out a frustrated sob before kicking the ground, uprooting some grass in the process. He did it again, and again, and again.

He hated it; absolutely hated it when his father refused to listen to him. "Why can't he just _listen _to what I have to say for once?!" he yelled to no one in particular. "Is it really that hard?!" Alfred continued to mercilessly kick at the ground with added vigour, yelling nonsensical words of frustration.

Eventually, his energy drained and he collapsed onto his back, panting. With his anger physically drained out of him, all that was left was just a hole in his heart. And as the sounds of nature continued around him, Alfred realized just how alone he really was.

Sitting up, he looked around at the scenery around him, void of any people. It were times like these when Alfred really wished he had more friends. But when his thoughts brought up Arthur, the hole in his heart only grew.

He knew Arthur wouldn't be here waiting for him like usual, but it still hurt. He had gotten used to his secret place being a sort of package deal with Arthur, so coming here and not seeing his friend didn't seem right anymore. Feeling his eyes sting, Alfred sniffed and harshly rubbed at his eyes, refusing to let any tears form. The more he thought about Arthur, the more he wanted to see him. But that was impossible considering the circumstances. "I don't even know where he lives," Alfred pouted.

"Looking for Arthur, little Alfred?"

Startled at the sudden voice of a girl speaking to him, Alfred abruptly sat up and looked around for the source. "Who. . .?"

"Over here!"

Alfred turned towards the river.

"A little lower, geez!"

When Alfred looked down by the rocks, he was surprised to see a little faerie dressed in blue petals grinning up at him. "'Bout time you found me!" she giggled. "So why the long face? Missing Arthur, are we?"

Even seeing the faerie couldn't cheer Alfred up any. He coloured slightly in embarrassment and looked away. "Not-. . . not really. . . Well," he turned back to the faerie a weak smile, "maybe just a little."

The faerie let out another light giggle and flew towards him, landing on the Prince's knee. "Aw I understand. But why destroy the grass, hm? It never harmed you any. Missing Arthur didn't make you go all angry, did it?"

Alfred's cheeks only darkened in colour, realizing in horror at his actions. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't really mean to, it's just-. . . It's not Arthur, but my father. We had a fight and he said some really mean things so I got really angry so I ended up coming here hoping that it would make me feel better, and it _has _but not really 'cause Arthur's not here, then-"

"It's okay, Alfred! I understand! No need to explain, I was just wondering." The faerie held up both her hands to stop the boy's rambling, laughing. "Seems like you want to talk to him about this, huh?"

"Yeah," Alfred nodded. "But I don't see him until tomorrow so I'll guess I'll have to wait."

"But can you wait?"

"I don't really have a choice though."

"I can show you were he lives if that helps!" the faerie offered excitedly. "That way you can talk to him today!"

"Oh, uh. . . but I don't think that's a good-"

"But you want to talk to him, don't you? This must be really important to you if you're so angry and crying about it an' all, right?"

Self-consciously rubbing his eyes, Alfred said, "But. . . he's probably really busy right now."

"But you're his friend! I'm sure he'll make time to listen to what's bothering you."

Alfred smiled a little, brightening at the thought. "You really think so?"

"Oh sure! He might not seem like it, but you know Arthur. He's really just a softie."

Alfred grinned. "That's true."

"Then follow me! I'll take you to his house." Feeling strangely nervous, but most certainly excited, Alfred dusted off any dirt and grass off his clothes and followed the faerie through the trees and onto the roads.

The moment he emerged from the bushes, he was amazed to see such vast fields laid out before him. Only used to seeing the landscape of the bustling village that the castle faces, it was Alfred's first time seeing the plantations of the kingdom. The houses were much, much further apart and aside from the distant outline of the northern mountains and surrounding forests, everything looked endless.

The fields were now empty from the wheat harvest, but a few tall stalks remained standing, reflecting the sunlight with a golden shimmer. The freshly empty lots were striped with repetitive patterns and Alfred couldn't take his eyes off the scenery until the faerie tugged at his hair to keep up. The vast landscape, simple and natural, was so different from the intricate and grand details of the palace and Alfred decided that he quite liked how different it was. Just chasing after the faerie and running down the dirt path felt so liberating that Alfred almost forgot his heavy heart, that is, until he arrived at what was apparently Arthur's doorstep.

"Good luck, Alfred!" the faerie whispered into his ear, flying off before Alfred had the chance to say anything back. Swallowing hard, he moved to knock on the door. What if Arthur didn't want to talk to him? Or thought that he was being annoying? Another part of Alfred's mind thought it strange that he was suddenly so self-conscious.

To Alfred's surprise, the person who opened the door wasn't Arthur, but a woman much taller and older than he was. Did he came to the wrong house? He was about to apologize when he noticed that the woman had the same, unmistakable green eyes as Arthur. Stammering, he opened mouth to say something – anything – but the woman beat him to it. With a kind smile, she said, "I've been expecting you, Prince Alfred. Please come in." Leaving the door open for the boy to follow, she went back into the house.

Mildly surprised that the woman – Arthur's mother, he guessed – knew who he was, Alfred hesitantly made his way into the small, wooden house, closing the door behind him as he entered. Curiously looking around at his surroundings, he was actually very eager to know what kind of place Arthur lived in. The sun streaming in through the windows reflected the light-brown texture of the wooden walls and illuminated the house in a very warm, welcome manner. A few pictures hung from the walls and fresh flowers adorned the fireplace mantelpiece. The living room blended into the dining area which was really just a table and two chairs. Across from the kitchen were the stairs, undoubtedly leading up to the bedrooms. Another door could be seen at the back wall of the house leading to the backyard. All the furniture were much closer together than what Alfred was used to, but he found the house quite cozy and very much liked it.

"Just take a seat on the couch," came her voice from the kitchen, "I'll be right out. Just putting on the kettle for some tea." Alfred didn't protest against having his least favourite drink being prepared for him, since it wouldn't be too polite and he wanted to leave a good impression, and sat down on the couch like he was told. When the woman emerged from the kitchen, she was carrying a plate of biscuits and set it down in the table in front of him. "Freshly made," she said. "Just came out of the oven so watch yourself. Might not be as nice as what the palace offers, but Arthur seems to favour them."

"Thanks!" Alfred moved to take one. It was still warm and slightly soft in his hands. So this was what the amazing smell was. Nibbling into it, he practically inhaled it on the next bite. "But um. . . are you Arthur's mom?" he asked hesitantly.

Smiling the woman nodded, silently enjoying the sight of another child taking a liking to her baked goods. "I am," she answered.

"Thought so!" Alfred smiled, relieved as he devoured another biscuit. "You both have the same eyes."

The mother hummed thoughtfully. "I suppose," she said, then adding softly, "Although I've always found him to be a splitting image of his father."

"Really? Where is he?"

There was an uncomfortable change in the atmosphere and the mother smiled sadly. "He passed away in an accident when Arthur was quite young."

". . . Oh," Alfred shrunk back. "I'm sorry, I. . . I didn't know."

She shook her head. "Arthur never told you so there's no need for you to apologize. I'm afraid he doesn't quite remember much about him anyway." The distinct whistle of the kettle was then heard from the kitchen and Arthur's mother excused herself to attend to the tea.

In the quiet that followed, Alfred felt a little empty as he processed the news of Arthur having lost his father. Suddenly he felt guilty that he wanted to find him just to complain about his own. Now that he thought about it, he didn't really know much about Arthur's life after all.

After a moment, Arthur's mother re-emerged with two tea cups in either hand, distracting Alfred from his thoughts as she settled one down in front of the Prince and cradled the other one on her lap.

Alfred lifted the cup from its saucer a little gingerly. "Thank you." He stared into the amber liquid, grimacing a little before raising the cup to his lips and taking a very tiny sip. Suddenly, his face lighted up and he stared wondrously at the tea. "Whoa! This actually tastes good!" he exclaimed, taking another sip. "Really good!"

"I knew you would like it," Arthur's mother laughed.

Alfred grinned at her. "The tea my mother drinks is kinda gross and really bitter, but I never knew tea could taste like this!" Then he paused, remembering something odd that's been bugging him ever since he came in. "Actually, I was wondering. . . before, you said you were expecting me. How did you know I was coming?"

"I suppose Arthur hasn't mentioned me either, hm?" But the question was rhetorical so she wasn't expecting an answer. "I'm a Seer. As I'm sure you know, that means that I am able to see into the future."

Alfred gaped. "That's so cool!"

She laughed. "I supposed that's one way of looking at it. Although there are limits to my powers."

"Like?"

"I can only see little snippets of the future; pictures, really. And I'm not able to control how far ahead in the future I can see. Sometimes it may be mere seconds away. Other times it could be years ahead." Taking a biscuit for herself, she dipped it into her tea and thoughtfully nibbled at it.

"Can you choose what you see?" Alfred asked, very much interested. He remembered a tutor telling him that Seers were currently very rare. They weren't always looked upon in a positive light. Many had been executed throughout history.

"I can try. At times it may work, but it really depends on how far and how complicated the future is. For example, futures with several different choices leads to several possibilities of outcomes, making it hard for me to see clear images." She finished her biscuit and took a sip of her tea to make it go down easier. "And although I've learned to control my power and use it only when I want to, sometimes, I can't control what I see." Her gaze grew distant. "And they're always the same type of visions."

Alfred wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but the question escaped his mouth before he could stop it. "What are they?"

"I'll spare you the details, but usually I have to watch someone die."

Alfred swallowed hard. "Oh. . ."

"It's alright," she waved a dismissive hand. Her expression suggested otherwise. "Let's not talk about such depressing topics. Do you have any powers, Alfred?"

He fidgeted in his seat. "Oh, um. . . I don't have any. Or at least, I don't know if I have any. My mom has powers, but my father doesn't so most people tell me that I could be like either one of them. Nothing's happened yet so. . ." Alfred stared at his hands as if they could suddenly, somehow prove him wrong. Nothing happened.

Arthur's mother nodded. "It's different for everyone. My husband didn't realise until his teens so I wouldn't worry."

"What about you?"

"Oh I found out quite young. Nearly scared the life out of me," she laughed. "Same goes for Arthur."

Alfred's ear perked up. "Arthur has powers too?!" Being so excited caused the young Prince to miss the flash of fear that appeared on the mother's face, as if she hadn't intended for Alfred to know. But it was quickly covered up by another smile.

"He does," she confirmed then continuing to speak to stop Alfred's incoming question. "But I suggest you ask Arthur yourself. It's up to him whether or not to tell people after all."

"You knew I was going to ask, didn't you?" Alfred pouted. "You're just like my mom. Always one step ahead."

This time, Arthur's mother let loose a long laugh, louder and unlike the others. Wiping a tear from her eye, she said, "Well I'm honored you think I'm similar to the Queen, even if only by our powers. But no," she smiled fondly, "I didn't need my power to know what question you were going to ask next." Alfred giggled and decided that he very much liked Arthur's mother. It wasn't only their powers that made the mothers similar, but their kindness as well.

"Where is Arthur anyway?" Alfred asked, looking around as if Arthur was hiding in the shadows.

"Right, you came to find him, didn't you? He went to the bookstore to do some errands last I asked him. He should be back soon. Would you like to wait for him here?"

Alfred regretfully shook his head. "I think it'll be faster if I go find him. I should be going home soon anyway." He gave Arthur's mother a sheepish smile. "I uh. . . kinda ran away without telling anyone so they're probably looking for me."

"Don't go making them worry too much about you," she gently chided. "I'm sure they're very busy people."

"Yeah. . . maybe too busy. . ." The thought about it actually made Alfred wonder whether or not Yao or anyone else would actually be looking for him. Had they even noticed he was gone? Giving his head a little shake, Alfred refused to acknowledge it. "Well, I should be going then."

Arthur's mother nodded and moved to open the door for him. "Tell my son to come home right after he's done, would you? He has a big day tomorrow. And a party to go to!"

Alfred giggled as he walked down the small pathway onto the road. "Yes ma'am!"

"Oh and Alfred? One more thing?"

He turned. "Yes?"

She seemed to hesitate, opening her mouth to say something but then closing it, shaking her head to herself. "Nevermind," she smiled. "Just. . . thank you. Thank you for being Arthur's friend."

Alfred shook his head. "I'm just glad he is my friend." Waving, he began to run down the road and towards the main village. "Thanks again for the tea and biscuits!"

"Promise you'll come visit again soon! I'll have more treats waiting for you!"

"I promise!"

* * *

It didn't take long for Alfred to find the bookstore despite its small structure. A few questions asked here and there and before he knew it, he found the small, old building wedged between two taller, residential ones – like a short aged man squished between two broad-shouldered palace guards.

But after stepping inside, Alfred was amazed how much bigger it looked compared to the outside. Especially when almost every bit of space was covered by shelves and piles of books or all sorts of thickness, colour, and size. Stepping further inside, the room opened up and revealed even more shelves bordering the perimeter of the room. A giant, winding staircase rose upwards towards the top floor which looked miles away.

So much for thinking finding Arthur would be easy.

He debated whether or not he should go around calling Arthur's name, but after seeing how many people were browsing the store, he decided against it. Maybe he could just search for him? But that would take too long.

As Alfred thought about his choices, a voice approached behind him. "Can I help you find anything, young mister?" Alfred turned to see a middle-aged man kindly grinning at him from behind the front desk, a pipe clenched between his teeth. His small, round glasses that didn't quite match his rough appearance and muscled body were slightly lopsided on his nose as he was trying to put a large book pile onto the desk.

"Ah, actually. . . I'm trying to find someone."

"Oh?" Finally setting the pile down with a heavy thud, the clerk adjusted his glasses. His eyes widened when he recognized Alfred's face. "Wait. . . Prince Alfred? Is that you?"

"Yes?" Alfred answered hesitantly.

The man only let out a hearty laugh that vibrated off the walls. "So it is! The last I saw of you was when you were but a wee, waddling toddler! Your mother had brought you down to find some new bedtime stories for you. Haven't seen you since. My, how you've grown!" Alfred laughed in response but with a little less vigour. He wasn't quite sure how to react to the man's sudden burst of excitement. "Welcome back to my store!" the owner stepped out from behind the desk, clapping Alfred on the back. "Who specifically are you looking for? I'll help you any way I can."

"Um, he's a little taller than me. Hair's a little lighter than mine. Green eyes-"

"Bushy eyebrows?"

Alfred looked at him in surprise. "Yeah! You know him?"

The man let out another guffaw and Alfred winced now that they were much closer. "Do I know him? How can I not when he comes by almost every single day? C'mon, I'll show you where he is." Just as he placed a friendly arm around Alfred to guide him to Arthur's location, the sharp ring of a call bell stopped them. They stopped to turn and see a small group of customers forming a line in front of the desk, each carrying a different assortment of books in their arms.

When Alfred and the clerk exchanged glances, Alfred knew what the man was silently asking. "It's okay. You should go do your job," he said.

The man's rough features softened into an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Your Highness. Duty calls." Pointing a finger down the side of the room, he said, "Just keep walking that way until you see a door in the corner. That's where Arthur is."

"Thanks," Alfred smiled. With a little wink and grin, the owner returned to his spot behind the desk, welcoming his customers with a warm, generic greeting. Smiling at the friendly warmth the man had given him, Alfred then turned to follow in the direction the man had pointed out.

Eventually he reached the door, but was a little confused as to why Arthur would be in the room for 'Employees Only'. Deciding to shrug it off, Alfred opened the door and entered, stepping into what looked like another bookstore, but with more boxes and packages strewn everywhere. The large room was dimly lit by the sunlight streaming in from the windows and tiny dust specs floated under them like snow. He could hear the slightly muffled commotion of the village streets through the wooden walls.

Walking down the main part between the bookshelves, Alfred scanned the place with a leisurely gaze. He liked the old, gently abandoned feeling of the both the bookstore and the storage room. When the owner told him that Arthur came here practically every day, Alfred wasn't surprised and now he understood why. It made him smile, thinking that he had discovered another part of Arthur. His reverie was cut short when he heard voices come from around the corner. One he immediately recognized as Arthur's, and another, to Alfred's dismay, distinctly female.

Slightly confused as to why his chest felt so painful upon hearing a girl's voice, Alfred walked towards the source a little hesitantly, catching a few words.

"I've never done this before," Arthur was saying, worry in his voice.

"Well it is your first time, so don't worry," the girl replied. Alfred peeked around the corner to see Arthur talking to a young girl around their age wearing a dark pink, striped dress; a purple ribbon tied on the side of her short, sandy-blonde hair.

Arthur snorted out a dry laugh. "But what if I made mistakes? They're really noticeable."

The girl gently took Arthur's hand in both of hers. It was an innocent gesture but Alfred practically bristled at the sight. "They're not!" she insisted. "You did really well for someone who's never done it before. You've worked hard all week!"

"You think so?" Arthur asked shyly, a little pink.

"I know so."

Unable to watch any more, Alfred ran towards the older boy and tackled him with a hug, giving him and the mysterious girl mini heart attacks as their hands dropped in surprise. "So this is where you are, Arthur!" Alfred laughed, trying to cover the heaviness in his chest.

"A-Alfred?!" Arthur realigned himself from the force of impact. "Wha-. . . What are you doing here? And how did you know where I was?" he asked, sounding a little panicked.

Alfred explained quickly, trying to cram all the details in. "Oh! Well first I kinda had a fight with my dad so I ran to our secret spot 'cause I really wanted to talk to you about it but then I remembered that you wouldn't be there until after tomorrow so I really sad about it. But then a faerie found me and showed me where your house is and then I met your mom who gave me really, _really _good biscuits and not-yucky tea so then she's the one who told me that you were here at the bookstore. When I got here the owner told me that you were back here so I came to find you and here I am!" He finished with a flourish and grinned up at Arthur, a little out of breath. When he saw that Arthur wasn't smiling, but rather had a small, confused frown on his face, Alfred faltered a little at the silence. Trying to re-brighten his smile, Alfred asked, "Did ya miss me?"

Finally Arthur sighed. "We were supposed to meet tomorrow, Alfred."

"I know," he replied, hurt that Arthur didn't answer his question. Why did it feel like he did something wrong? "But I wanted to see you."

"You couldn't wait one more day?"

"But I _really_ wanted to see you!" Alfred pouted. "Did. . . you not want to see me?"

Alfred opened his mouth, probably to say something spiteful, but closed it after seeing Alfred's fearful eyes. Exhaling sharply Arthur looked away, embarrassed. "Of course I did," he mumbled. "I just don't really like surprises, that's all."

Alfred grinned and felt his heart swell. But his happiness was cut short when the girl beside them giggled. Both boys looked to her, startled, as if they had forgotten that she was there. Whereas Alfred frowned, Arthur looked ashamed of himself. "Sorry, I'm being rude. Alfred, this is Erika. The bookstore owner's daughter. Erika, this is Alfred. Prince of Spades."

Alfred moved closer to Arthur, almost possessively. Arthur didn't notice. Erika did and smiled. "I know who you are," she said, watching Alfred and seeing his little glare. "My father used to tell me about you and your mother. It's nice to meet you, Alfred." She stuck a hand out to shake, but Alfred moved away from it.

"You have to call me _Prince _Alfred," he corrected. "Or 'Your Highness'. Only my friends call me Alfred."

Erika looked a little taken aback whereas Arthur looked absolutely mortified. "Alfred!"

However Erika quickly shook her head. "No, no! It's fine! It's my fault." A little flustered, she did a small curtsy. "I'm sorry, Your Highness, I forgot my manners."

Alfred hummed, seemingly satisfied, and began to tug on Arthur's arm. "C'mon Arthur I wanna talk to you."

Arthur pulled his arm away. "I still have some things to do, Alfred."

"Then I'll wait 'till you're finished."

Arthur looked uncomfortable. "Oh. . . then. . . can you wait outside instead?"

Alfred frowned. "Why?"

"Just. . . 'cause," he fidgeted and looked away. "I don't really want you to see what we're doing." Arthur then frowned at his own words, as if he wasn't sure if he was using the right ones.

Alfred tensed and could feel his heart give a painful squeeze. It wasn't long until the silence turned awkward. That seemed to be happening a lot today.

Erika hesitantly looked to Arthur. "Um. . . Arthur, it's okay if you want to go." Alfred was starting to feel victorious until she added, "You could always come back tomorrow morning." That's when Alfred had enough.

"You know what? Fine!" Alfred huffed. "I know when I'm not wanted." Turning on his heels, he stomped back towards the door.

"Alfred, wait!" Arthur called out, hesitating a little to go after him. Looking at Erika, she shooed him to go. "I'll see you tomorrow," she reassured. Giving Erika an apologetic look, Arthur thanked her and chased after the Prince.

Meanwhile, Alfred had made it out the store and onto the street when Arthur caught his arm to stop him. "Wait, Alfred!"

"What?" Alfred spat back. He shook off Arthur's arm and both had a strange sense of deja vu. "Didn't you want to stay with Erika instead of me?"

"Alfred, I think you're misunderstanding this."

"Misunderstanding what? That you spent time this week with her instead of me? I thought you were busy! That's why you couldn't meet up with me. Not because you were busy playing with Erika."

"I _was_ busy!" Arthur argued.

"Doesn't look like it. Why were you with Erika when you could've been hanging out with me?" Alfred wanted a reason. A good one. This wasn't how he wanted their reunion to be and he wanted nothing more than to stop arguing, but he felt really betrayed. His chest felt tight and his heart was hurting.

To his dismay, Arthur couldn't reply and avoided his eyes instead. ". . . I can't tell you."

"Why?"

"It's a secret."

"What?!" Alfred was shocked. "Arthur, aren't we best friends? Best friends tell each other everything."

Arthur had a pained expression on his face. His green eyes were darkened in a silent plea that Alfred was too distressed to notice. "Alfred, please can you just trust me and-"

"Trust you? How can I trust you when you're already keeping secrets from me?!" Arthur didn't reply and Alfred's heart sank further. "Is it something to do with Erika? That you would rather be her best friend instead?"

Arthur made a frustrated noise. "No, Alfred it's not that, I swear. But what, I can't spend time with other people without your permission or something?"

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

"Well that's what it seems like! Not to mention you were really rude to Erika back there too! I don't have that many friends in the first place and you probably just ruined my chance to make one."

"You already have me though!" Alfred whined. "_I'm_ your friend!"

"Yes, I know that, but-"

"Your _best _friend!"

"Alfred, I _know_, but just because we're best friends doesn't mean I revolve around you and only you. I'm not a thing, Alfred. Is it wrong that I just wanted another friend? It wasn't like I'm trying to replace you."

Alfred inhaled sharply. Leave it to Arthur to get straight to core of the problem. "But you could've at least told me that you were here with her!"

"And I'm telling you that I couldn't!" Arthur yelled, exasperated. By now, several townspeople were glancing their way, curious at what was going on. Some had even stopped to listen in. But Arthur wasn't worried for long because Alfred clearly had enough.

"You know what? Whatever!" he shouted. "Forget it. I don't care anymore." Alfred swiftly turned and ran back down the way he came. Pushing his way through the crowds, Alfred refused to look back. Part of him wanted Arthur to chase after him again, but what was the point when his answers will still be the same? No tears came, but the damage to Alfred's feelings was much worse than it was with his father.

'_Whatever,' _Alfred thought bitterly. _'He can be Erika's best friend now. See if I care!' _

* * *

**Aiya, children these days. So dramatic. Can this be karma working against little Alfred? Believe it or not, I had a similar argument with a best friend years ago. What better way to write arguments than to use your own experiences as reference?**

**As well, Erika is Liechtenstein for those of you who haven't realized. **

**So sorry that it took me months to upload this. First year university has not been kind on my mental health. Thank you again for your patience! **

**Let me know of any mistakes or your opinions on the story so far. We have yet to unlock more important bits and pieces of the story so don't worry, things will pick up eventually. Hope you don't find these chapters to be too boring.**

**Love you all! Good luck to those of you with exams and hope to see you in the next chapter!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

'_Whatever. He can be Erika's best friend now. See if I care!'_

Well. . . that's what Alfred had originally thought. But now that it was the day of his birthday and he had fought with the only person he had expected to see, Alfred was pretty sure he _did _care. Probably a lot more so than he would like to admit.

So as the sky darkened and the main festivities were beginning, Alfred couldn't help but stare out the windows facing the main entrance of the palace, his heart secretly yearning to see a particular mop of blonde hair. Wiping away his breath from the glass, Alfred worried his lip. The lights were beginning to turn on and the flood of guests were slowly waning, but he had yet to see his best friend arrive at the gates.

Alfred shifted restlessly before flopping onto the chair he was using to prop himself up. He stared up at the gold-lined ceiling, listening to the muted bustle of the crowd outside. Music travelled up and through the empty halls of the upper floors where Alfred was currently waiting for his escort. He had been ordered by Yao to stay in his bedroom until someone came to get him, but that didn't stop the young Prince from escaping across the hall in hopes of seeing Arthur. Unfortunately, his hopes were in vain.

Alfred let out a huge yawn, quite unsightly for a Prince but he could care less if anyone saw him. For the first time in his life, he hadn't been able to get a good night sleep. Always known for being a deep sleeper, Alfred had been too busy replaying the horrible scene of the day before to even feel sleepy. All he could do was roll around, constantly worrying about whether or not Arthur hated him. The maids practically fainted when they saw his face that morning. But again, Alfred could care less on how he looked. Even better, maybe his face would scare the others away so he didn't have to socialize.

The Prince glanced over to the clock in the hall and back out the window, scanning his eyes through the blur of gowns and suits. It was already half past nine and still nothing. _'He probably does hate me now. No wonder he's not showing up.' _Alfred trudged back into his room across the hall and fell face-first into his bed. His mind instantly flashed back to yesterday's incident again and Alfred's heart gave a painful squeeze. The guilt felt heavy on his shoulders. If only he could turn back time. . .

A gentle knock came from the door. Alfred got up, expecting to see a guard at the door, but was surprised to see Yao standing there instead. Seeing the boy's surprise, Yao approached him with a kind smile on his face, and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Heard someone was being gloomy today despite it being their birthday."

Alfred gathered himself and sat beside the Jack, staring down at his feet. "Yeah. . ." he admitted. "Sorry."

"Oh? What's this, you're actually apologizing? So easily? Did the sun rise from the West today? Can it be the end of the world?" Yao mused. When he only got a weak glare in response, he sighed and poked the young Prince's puffed up cheek. "Pouting doesn't do you good. You're too young to have such a troubled face. I heard you gave the maids quite the fright this morning. Nightmares?"

Alfred shook his head.

"Then what is it? Your father?"

Alfred hesitated. Well, Yao wasn't completely wrong. That whole issue with the promise he had made to Titania and all was also hanging over his head, but. . . it wasn't the reason behind his sleepless night. "Yao, why is it so hard to have friends?"

Yao raised an eyebrow. That was a little unexpected. He had heard from the maids and guards that Alfred had been wandering outside the palace walls more recently, but in all honesty, he hadn't expected that it was because the young Prince had made friends. It was actually kind of a nice surprise. "Well no doubt your inexperience is one of them," Yao answered bluntly before softening. "But I suppose it's also because you're scared."

Alfred looked up, confused. "Scared?" That was a weird answer.

The Jack nodded, humming in thought. "It's a different 'scared' from what you read in your books. It's different than when a princess is kidnapped by a dragon or when you're in the forest after dark. It's something you feel when you care about someone." When he saw how Alfred's confused expression was slowly melting into that of a pensive one, he continued in hopes of clarifying further. "For example, you love your mother, do you not? No doubt we've encountered very close calls in regards to her health for the past few months and during those times, how did you feel?" Yao chose his words cautiously. He was treading on dangerous territory. Reminding the young Prince of his mother's condition in this situation would either help him or make matters much worse.

Luckily, it seemed Alfred was taking it well and with a frighteningly mature mindset that could only result from growing up as crown prince. Then realization appeared on his face. "Scared," Alfred whispered. "I felt scared."

Yao nodded, internally sighing in relief. "And do you know why? Because you didn't want to lose someone you cared about, hm?"

Alfred nodded, thinking back to the night before. He had done some of his own thinking, as lashing out so suddenly wasn't something he had ever done before, and he soon realized the reason behind his actions. It wasn't easy but he eventually came to terms with his jealousy. It was difficult to admit even to himself but hearing Yao's words made the truth a little easier to accept.

Seeing Alfred's guilty face clarified any suspicions Yao had in his head. Letting out a breathy laugh, Yao patted the boy's head. "Make sure to apologize to your friends, hm?"

"There's only one," Alfred corrected, a little begrudgingly. "But what if he doesn't want to talk to me?"

"Well he's not going to be doing the talking, is he?"

A little smile appeared on Alfred's face. "That's true."

"Exactly. Now that that's cleared up, we must make our appearance soon. We have very important guests waiting for you and we're already making them wait much too long." Yao got up and straightened out his clothing, checking his pocket-watch. Eyebrows furrowing in disapproval, he slipped his watch back into his breast pocket and waved at the Prince to quickly follow him as he began walking out the door. "Let's hope the King won't have my head for being so unpunctual," he muttered.

Alfred followed the Jack out the door and down the hall. He glanced out the windows. Still nothing. "Just blame it on me," he suggested indifferently to the Jack. "It's not like it'll change anything."

"Now, now, Alfred. Your father is only doing what's best for you."

"But he wasn't always so grumpy," Alfred pouted.

Yao sighed. "You should know that Spades hasn't been doing so well for several years now so you can only imagine the heavy amount of stress it's putting on your parents, especially your father. And now with your mother having a long-term illness, the burden on his emotional and mental state has only increased. It doesn't help when you only make things more difficult for him. He can only handle so much."

Alfred thought back to his promise with the Faerie Queen and fidgeted. "I-I know that. But I can't help it sometimes."

"I'm quite aware of that," Yao chuckled. "I've seen your little attitude enough to last me for the rest of my life. But do try. For your parents' sakes."

Blushing guiltily, Alfred huffed. "I _am_ trying."

"Yes, yes." Yao teased. "Of course."

Together they travelled down a few short flights of stairs and rounded some corners to head towards the back of the grand ballroom. As they approached the door, Yao nodded at one of the servants and he hurried off to let the King know of their arrival. As they waited for the doors to open, Alfred nervously shifted his weight around, feeling quite restless.

"Keep your head together," Yao reminded him. "This isn't your first birthday party. Just remember to give special attention to your fellow monarchs," he glanced down at the fidgeting boy and offered a reassuring smile, "and just have fun."

Alfred answered with a weak smile of his own and turned to face the door. Just past those grand double doors were the most important people of the Four Kingdoms. If he messed up (again, his thoughts added), his father would only see him as even less than what he saw before. _'If that happens,' _Alfred swallowed, _'he probably won't want to see me for a while let alone talk to me about the Faerie Queen.' _

When he almost set a noble's cloak on fire after knocking over some candles, and then proceeded to throw the entire punch bowl on him in attempts to put it out during his previous birthday party, Alfred had gone without dinner for almost half a week and were stripped of his rights to go outside the palace for a month. That included the gardens and even his horse-riding and hunting lessons had been cancelled. Alfred had never felt so suffocated. Never again did he want to feel so trapped, especially when his normal schedule already felt so unbearable.

As the noise in the grand hall began to fade, Alfred thought back to happier days. It was his way of coping and concentrating, which were both sorely needed at times like these.

His thoughts travelled back to his favourite place in the world: his secret spot at the apple tree. But the journey there was just as enthralling. The earthy smell of the forest. The brilliance of the sun. The sweetness of the summer breeze. Most of all, the raw feeling of freedom and absolute liberation as he raced down that familiar hill.

And then suddenly, a pair of bright, green eyes contrasted with his memories. His ears filled with rare laughter and the crisp sound of pages turning under the shade. Reddening cheeks and a warm smile coloured his mind. The sweet smell of ripe apples wafted up his nose.

The doors to the grand hall swung open and Alfred snapped back into reality. Immediately willing his legs to follow Yao out the doors, he tried not to stumble but it wasn't easy when his mind was still filled with memories of Arthur. Remembering the older boy hadn't been intentional so even as he faced his guests – his audience – Alfred was feeling even more distraught than before.

Before he knew it, his time with Arthur was now one of his favourite memories. Not only that, but within the few short weeks they had known each other, Arthur was gradually becoming an irreplaceable existence. That fact became painfully clear as Alfred scanned the crowd and Arthur was still not there.

The applause that welcomed him faded as the guests awaited Alfred's speech. He always said a few words before his birthday, and they were probably too short to even be called a speech, but nonetheless, they were necessary. Alfred took a shaky breath. "I'd like to thank everyone for coming today to attend my birthday." His voice cracked, causing the majority of the crowd to chuckle. Willing his blush to fade, Alfred laughed nervously and continued. "I know the journey for most of you was long and uncomfortable, so I hope you will take the chance to relax and regain some strength during tonight's festivities. Another year has gone by for me as Spades' Prince, and I'd like to thank everyone who supported not only me and my family during difficult times, but the Kingdom of Spades as well. Many perils could not have been avoided without your support."

Alfred paused for the polite applause, taking this chance to breathe. He felt like a caged animal under the watchful eyes of all these people, but nothing could compare to the feeling of his father's gaze burning a hole into the back of his head. Alfred hurried to end his speech. "Without further ado, please continue to enjoy the refreshments. Dinner will be served shortly. Thank you all again for being here tonight. I look forward to being in your care for another year, and hopefully, for many more to come."

A richer applause echoed around the hall as Alfred bowed and took his throne beside his mother. Sitting on his throne, Alfred wanted nothing more than to just melt into his seat, but alas, his duty as Prince would not let him. Letting his body click into that firm and proper posture obtained from the lessons given to him the moment he learned to sit, Alfred could only let himself mentally relax.

For the next hour, Alfred sat in his throne unable to move as the other nobles socialized, drank, and nibbled on little appetizers. For the hosting royals, all the socializing – all the _moving _– would and could only be done after dinner. For now, the royal family could only sit on their throne and look pretty, sometimes getting introduced to newcomers of certain noble families, but that was just about as exciting as it could get for now.

Of course, Alfred thought, sitting still at a party wasn't as bad as posing for painting sessions but it was certainly a close second.

However, as bored as Alfred was, his nervous anticipation was stronger. As he sat on his throne, his eyes constantly scanned the crowd. It made him dizzy to mentally rummage through the colourful suits and gowns, but he wouldn't let himself stop. The knot in his stomach only grew tighter the longer he searched, hoping to find his best friend among the flashes of celebratory colours.

But when dinner was announced, Alfred felt the knot unravel into something worse than anxiousness: hopelessness. Although the stomach clenching had passed, Alfred felt as if there was a dark hole taking shape in place of it. Deep inside, Alfred knew it was really unlikely that Arthur was going to show up, because after all, Arthur was never late. So as the Prince sat into his chair at the high table, he felt he had no choice but to accept the fact that Arthur would never come. Then again, Alfred wasn't too surprised considering how their reunion had turned out.

The Prince grimaced and dryly swallowed his mouthful of food. Now that he thought about it, he would much rather prefer the nervous knot he had in his stomach over this new bottomless pit. Maybe that way he could at least know what his food tasted like.

Despite it all, Alfred thought dinner passed by in a blur. He felt a little disheartened seeing his usually finished dishes get taken away with more than half the food remaining, but he couldn't bring himself to linger on the thought of a possible upset stomach in the near future. Instead, even as the music and dancing began, Alfred found himself hopelessly staring at the doors to the grand hall with an empty gaze and an empty mind.

Alfred realized he must have been standing there much longer than he had thought when he was briefly shaken out of his trance by the gentle hand of his mother. He turned his blue eyes towards her, startled. ". . . Mom?"

The Queen, simply dazzling tonight in her new gown stitched with gold lace and purple silk, gave her son a questioning smile. "Something on your mind? You've been standing here frozen stiff for so long, our guests are beginning to wonder if you're alright."

Alfred looked away, a little ashamed to be caught. If his mother had to personally tend to him that could only mean his behaviour had already been noticed by the majority of the guests. But in all honesty, that wasn't what Alfred was worried about. If the guests knew, then no doubt so did his father. Alfred was more worried about the scolding he would get after. "Sorry, Mother," he mumbled. "I'll. . . go find something to do."

"Just one minute, mister," she placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from walking off. "With that expression you're going to scare our guests even more. Won't you tell me what's wrong? It's unlike you to be so down."

Alfred looked up at his mother, debating whether or not to tell her, but then again, even if he didn't say anything, his mother would read his thoughts. So he began reluctantly, "I invited someone, but I don't think they're coming."

"Oh? And why not?"

"We. . . kind of had a fight. He's probably still too mad at me to come." He let his mind flash back to yesterday for what felt like the millionth time and willed himself to stare into his mother's eyes, signalling that he was allowing his mother to search through his memories. Alfred was never quite good with words – although the main reason was most likely his young age – so when he needed something off his chest and couldn't find the right way to explain it, what better to do than turn to the psychic?

A second passed in silence until the Queen blinked, her curious expression turning to that of sympathy and understanding. Alfred then shied away. "It's my fault, isn't it? It's my fault Arthur won't come tonight."

"Oh, my precious child, you always were too quick to jump to conclusions." The Queen fondly combed her fingers through Alfred's hair. "However I do believe that if your friend doesn't attend tonight's celebration, it's because he's just as worried as you are now."

Alfred looked utterly confused. "Why would he be worried?"

The Queen smiled. Her baby-blue eyes were soft and thoughtful as she continued patting Alfred's hair, comforting him. "From what I can see, he's probably too worried that _you're_ still mad at _him_ to come."

"But I'm not anymore, really!" Alfred paused. "Well. . . maybe just a little. It's his fault he didn't tell me that he was spending time with someone else! Friends don't keep secrets from each other!"

There was a moment of silence between the two. Then Alfred, realizing what he had just said, quickly shrunk in on himself – the very definition of guilt plastered on his young face.

The Queen tried to reason with her son. Clearly, her son's conscience could only do so much and Lord knows how stubborn this boy could be. "Don't you think there is a reason why he kept it from you? Don't you think he had the right to be heard before you made your accusations?"

Alfred winced. "Yes."

"And – correct me if I'm wrong – is it true that friends not only have to be honest with each other, but trust each other as well?"

". . . Yes."

"And is that what you did?"

". . . No."

"Alfred, no matter how betrayed you felt you need to think before you act. And that applies to any situation. Whether it's with your friends or with important contacts of this kingdom a Prince needs to be level-headed, do you understand?"

Alfred nodded glumly, eyes glued to the floor.

Seeing her son's face softened the Queen's heart and she stroked a finger down the boy's cheek, causing the Prince to shyly glance up at her. She smiled and her gentle caress quickly turned into a pinch. Holding her son's cheek between her forefinger and thumb, the Queen gave the skin a teasing pull. "As long as you understand then, darling." She let go of Alfred's cheek and he rubbed the sore skin, giggling.

"Thanks, Mom." Alfred grinned up at her. He wanted nothing more than to hug her right there and then (because he sorely needed a hug right now) but when under the scrutiny of the guests, public displays of affection were a touchy subject.

Those who appreciated the traditional way of things scorned any signs of strong emotion. They believed that those of high-class must always maintain pride and dignity, so for them, emotion equaled the loss of such worth. The Kingdom of Spades and the Kingdom of Clubs had mutual respect for traditions such as these – which was about as close as either kingdom could get to mutual respect for each other. That, and the pact renewed every ten years which ended the bloody rivalry between the two kingdoms a century ago.

The other side of the spectrum, however, was completely different. The Kingdom of Diamonds and the Kingdom of Hearts saw emotions as pure and beautiful. Kisses were often exchanged as greetings, hugs were basically currency, and love was like a second language. They had moved on from old traditions and made their own modern ones, but still respected the old ways to maintain the precious peace that has yet to be disrupted in either kingdoms.

The Queen of Spades, seeing that her son's bright smile hid tinges of hesitation and inner-conflict, cupped his face between her hands and planted a soft kiss on the top of his head. It was a smart move – demonstrating affection while maintaining the grace and dignity the people of Spades respected so much. "Better?" the Queen asked.

Alfred beamed. "Better."

"Excellent. Then it's time for you to go around and great our guests properly, including the children from the other kingdoms."

Alfred's expression soured. "Even Ivan?"

The Queen laughed. "_Especially _Ivan." With a gentle hand on Alfred's back, she guided him along. Alfred pouted, remembering that his father had said the exact words. At least his mother didn't sound like she was threatening him.

It didn't take long to find the royal family of Clubs. Their green attire glowed under the light of the chandeliers and their imposing figures easily towered over anyone they spoke to, intimidating even those standing within a ten foot radius. When Alfred and his mother approached, the King of Clubs glanced over and immediately smiled in greeting, excusing himself from the current conversation he was having with another noble.

"Amelia!" The King of Clubs beamed at the Queen of Spades. "How wonderful of you to grace us with your presence."

Beside him, the Queen of Clubs scoffed. "I suppose it must have been quite the task for you to make your way over to us seeing as it has been nearly an hour since dinner. You must be quite popular tonight," she commented. It would've been hard to determine whether or not her tone was hostile, but after so many encounters, the Queen of Spades immediately knew that that was a backhanded compliment.

Nonetheless, Alfred's mother nodded politely. "Nicolas. Anna. Always a pleasure to see you again."

Then King Nicolas turned to Alfred who was desperately trying not to run away. Something about the King of Clubs infamous wide smile was like seeing a wild animal bare its hungry teeth at you – pearly-whites, gums and all. "Greetings, little Alfred. Do you still remember me? It's been year since we last met."

Alfred bowed at the waist. "Good evening, King Nicolas. Of course I still remember. It would be very difficult not to," he answered. The King of Clubs let out a boisterous laugh and Alfred cracked a small smile. The King and Queen of Clubs were polar opposites in terms of appearance – the Queen with her high cheekbones and platinum blonde hair and the King with his dark, scruffy beard and slightly tanned complexion – but their personalities were practically identical. Both were cold, merciless, and calculating. King Nicolas just liked hiding it behind a smile, which made him all the more terrifying. "Thank you for coming to my birthday party, King Nicolas."

"Aw come now Alfred, didn't I tell you to call me Uncle? Your father and I are very close after all."

_Were _very close, Alfred wanted to point out, but he smiled anyway. "Right. Thank you for coming, _Uncle _Nicolas."

The King of Clubs nodded happily in approval and turned to his wife. "Where's Ivan, dear? He should do some catching up with the birthday boy. It's been such a while since they've had a chance to properly talk."

Not sympathetic in the least, Queen Anna sniffed and quickly turned to look down to the end of the refreshment table, calling out a sharp, "Ivan!" as if she always knew where her son was at all times. Almost immediately, a head peaked out from behind the punch bowl and Alfred could see Ivan's large violet eyes peering at them in curiosity. The Queen of Clubs waved him over. "Come here, Ivan."

As he approached, Alfred saw Ivan's four-year-old younger sister, Natalya, following close behind, a small hand grabbing onto her brother's coat. Alfred always liked Natalya better than her brother and she practically clung to him every time they had a playdate, but ever since the fight the two boys had, she's been doing nothing but glare at him with wary eyes.

"Ivan, did you wish Alfred a happy birthday yet?" King Nicolas asked, placing a hand on his son's shoulder.

Ivan shook his head and turned his clear eyes to Alfred. With the same, unreadable smile Alfred couldn't find it in himself to like, Ivan said, "Happy birthday, Alfred."

"Thanks," he mumbled in response. Ivan was about a year younger than him and a few inches shorter. His small, skinny build made it practically impossible for Alfred to say or do anything bad against the Prince of Clubs without having Yao chasing him down for retaliation.

"Well then, now that our boys are reunited, how about we let them play on their own," King Nicolas suggested, clapping his hands together as if it was the best idea in the world and as if he had no idea that the last time the boys were left alone, a fist-fight broke out. Then again, it wasn't Ivan who had walked away with an almost broken nose.

With slight hesitation on her face, Alfred's mother nodded and looked to her son. "Play nice, you understand? We'll be back to check up on you later."

"Come now, Amelia, the boys are old enough to take care of themselves now. Why, when I was younger and we were having the heaviest snow in centuries. . ." Alfred watched as the King of Clubs steered his mother away from them, his wife by his side, boasting about something extreme his father had made him go through when he was but Alfred and Ivan's age. The King's loud laugh could be heard even after they disappeared into the crowd.

"Your nose seems to have healed well, Alfred."

Alfred turned to the other prince, trying to put on a polite smile. "Thanks for your. . . concern, Ivan. I guess I should consider myself lucky that your aim was slightly off."

"Slightly off? Oh no, Alfred, I never miss. I was aiming for the frown you had on your face that day. I like your smile so much better. It suits you more."

Alfred grinned. "Good thing my teeth weren't knocked out or else I wouldn't be smiling much, now would I?" Both boys laughed like nothing could be funnier. Ivan might look more like his mother with his violet eyes and pale, blond hair, but his personality most definitely came from his father as did trait of having an intimidating smile.

"Don't hurt my brother!" a little voice spoke out, interrupting the conversation. Both princes turned to Natalya who was furiously pouting up at Alfred while clinging to her brother's coat in a possessive manner. "No more fighting!"

To be honest, Alfred had always felt a little guilty about the incident since he was the one to throw the first punch, and it didn't help that Natalya, someone he actually didn't mind playing with from the Clubs palace, now saw him as a threat. But he did his best to swallow his guilt and keep his temper cool. "Only if _someone _watches his mouth and doesn't insult someone else's mother," he said, glancing over at Ivan.

For a second, Ivan looked as if he was truly apologetic, as his eyes saddened a little and his mouth twitched downwards, but his expression quickly switched back into that default smile he always had as if the guilt had never been there in the first place. "I didn't mean for my words to sound so horrible since I was only saying the truth, but since you were so mad over it, I'll say sorry if that makes you feel better."

Alfred debated for a second. He wanted nothing more than to make Ivan admit provoking him (even if he said he didn't mean it) and apologize to him a thousand times over, but the way he offered it rubbed Alfred the wrong way and made him realize that even if Ivan did apologize, what's done is done and Alfred would get no pleasure from hearing him say it now. "Sometimes, saying the truth isn't always the best choice," Alfred grumbled, letting the option of making Ivan apologize go.

The Clubs' Prince quirked his head to the side. "Then it's better living a lie?" The tone made Alfred's annoyance rise, but he forced it back down. He knew of Ivan's ability to mask his emotions with feigned innocence and nothing pissed him off more, but seeing how genuinely curious Ivan was, he couldn't bring himself to hate him.

". . . No, but sometimes you need to take other people's feelings into consideration. . ." he paused, not knowing if he should continue. ". . . What you said last time really hurt, ya know? How would you like it if I said something like that to you?"

When Ivan's smile saddened ever so slightly, it stayed that way this time. "Sorry. . . I didn't mean to."

Alfred could barely believe what he heard and had to remind himself to close his gaping mouth. It was even harder to believe that he was actually starting to feel sympathy towards Ivan, but he had to admit, it was a pleasant surprise. "Nah, it's okay. I know you're kinda on the insensitive side." He kept his tone friendly or else, knowing Ivan, it would've been taken literally.

"My parents told me that before," Ivan admitted. "But they didn't say it was a bad thing. Papa told me that some people see honesty as insensitivity. But I think telling people the truth, no matter how bad it is, would be better than lying to them. Because people have to face the truth eventually."

There was a lot of truth to Ivan's words and Alfred knew it. His mother had told him the same thing as well as most of his tutors, but he just couldn't understand it, let alone accept it. He would much rather live on as happily as he could instead of carrying a heavy burden – the truth could always be dealt with later.

"I guess you're kinda right," Alfred shrugged easily, then quickly switching to eye Ivan with a warning. "But my mom isn't going to die and _that's _the truth."

Ivan said nothing against him. "If you say so," he responded simply. He had learned from his past mistakes.

"No. . . no more fighting?" Natalya took a tiny step out of her brother's shadow towards Alfred, a hesitant glare still on her baby-face. Everyone in both the palaces of Spades and Clubs knew that Natalya adored Alfred, second to her big brother of course, so even she was eager for the two to reconcile.

The two princes exchanged glances and Alfred smirked. "I wouldn't say no more fighting. . . but we'll try not to kill each other." Ivan smiled in good humour but Natalya looked mortified, as if the two boys she looked up to as brothers would really end each other's lives at any moment.

"I'll marry Brother and protect him!" she vowed, standing in front of Ivan. "Then no one can hurt him!"

Ivan sighed tiredly. This wasn't the first time they've had this conversation and it definitely wasn't the first time Alfred heard it either. "Natalya, I can protect myself just fine."

"No! Brother needs me as a wife to protect him."

"Then can't you just be my bodyguard then?"

"No! I will marry Brother!"

"Natalya. . ."

"Brother, marry me!"

Ivan laughed a little nervously. "Maybe when we get older. . ."

Alfred snickered. Oddly enough if anyone could scare Ivan, it was his little sister. But just when he was about to take pity on the other prince and change the subject, a Spades' servant approached him and made his presence known with a bow. "Your Highness, pardon me for interrupting."

Alfred nodded in acknowledgement. "What is it?"

"There is a young boy at the gates asking to be let into the palace. He's saying he knows you and that he's been given an invitation from you?"

Alfred froze. But although his body couldn't seem to move, his heart was certainly up and running. In fact it felt like it was about to jump out of his chest. "A. . . boy?" he replied dumbly. Part of him knew who it was – there could be no one else. But he had to make sure. "What's his name?" he demanded. He just had to make sure it was-

"Arthur Kirkland, Your Highness."

And that was all it took for the Prince to go flying towards the door in a very un-princely manner. In order to leave the room as fast as possible, he had to cut across the dance floor which was currently filled to the very edges with dancing couples of all kingdoms. Alfred was able to time it so that he could dodge the dancers without knocking anyone over, but in his hurry, it was inevitable that he stepped on a few toes and tripped over some dress hems. The cries of surprise and protest were not few and Alfred winced. He would definitely be hearing about this later.

What he didn't realize, however, was how soon he would hear about it. Just as he was about to pass the doorway, his wrist was firmly caught by a hand and he was practically whipped around to face none other than Yao's very displeased face towering over him. Without a word, Yao dragged him out the door and to the side where it was void of people and out of earshot. All the while, Alfred was trying his best to free himself, but under Yao's vise-like grip, he was unwillingly pulled along.

"What is the meaning of you running across the hall like a wild child?" Yao demanded, tone quiet but harsh. "If your father saw you, do you have any idea how displeased he would be? Especially after yesterday's talk? Did absolutely nothing get into that little head of yours?"

At this point, Alfred couldn't find it in himself to worry. Not when the person he's been desperately wanting to see is right outside the gates. "Yao, I'm sorry, I know running was wrong, but can I please, please, _please _explain later?"

"No, you either explain now or face the wrath of your father. You know how he hates to be caught without answers and if his guest go running to him demanding to know why you've been trampling all over their feet. . ." Yao inhaled deeply, "then you'll be facing worse consequences than me yelling at you for being so disrespectful."

Letting out an exasperated groan, Alfred gave in. "He's here, Yao! The friend that I was telling you about? I invited him and he didn't show up in time so I thought he wasn't coming, but he came! He actually came! Now I can actually go talk to him!"

Not entirely convinced that the arrival of a friend was worth that much excitement and ignorance of the King's warning, Yao raised an eyebrow and ever slightly loosened his grip. "You mean to say you actually invited him to the palace? A commoner?"

Alfred stomped his feet impatiently. "He's not a commoner, he's my best friend! So of course I would invite him over for my birthday."

Yao mentally slapped a hand to his forehead. Now things were going to get even more delicate to explain to the King. "Oh Alfred, you just love to see me get in trouble, don't you?" he muttered mostly to himself and shaking his head.

"What? No, of course not, but can you let me go now? I'll explain to Father later, I promise!"

Yao sighed and released his grasp. "Fine. Off you go. But the moment you get back I'm taking you to see your father, understand?"

"Okay, okay, fine." Alfred took off running. "Thanks, Yao!"

"No running, Alfred!" the Jack called after him, but to no avail. After seeing the Prince disappear from sight, he sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "And to think it'll get worse when he reaches his teenage years. If that boy ever has a rebellious stage, I'm retiring."

With no other choice than to face the King, he turned to walk back into the grand hall, a tired scowl on his face and mutters of how disobedient children are these days seething from his mouth.

* * *

Outside the palace walls, Arthur stood at the gates shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. In his hands was Alfred's birthday present, neatly wrapped by his mother and awkwardly taped by him. He had been so excited to make it, but after how much trouble it had caused, Arthur now looked at the gift with mixed feelings.

"If our friendship gets ruined by you, don't think I won't burn you," he chided at the gift. But despite his words, he knew that even if Alfred didn't want to be friends with him anymore, he probably couldn't bring himself to destroy the thing he had worked so hard to make. "Fine, I probably won't burn you. I'll just throw you at him. Maybe that'll wake him up and put some sense back into him." Arthur nodded contently. Yes, that's exactly what he'll do.

But the moment he heard a familiar voice cry out "Arthur!" his resolve crumbled and was instantly replaced with the nervousness he's had since morning. Turning towards the sound, he was a little surprised to see Alfred come bounding towards him with a huge grin on his face, not at all like the angry boy he had imagined he'd face for being late.

"Arthur!" the Prince shouted again in glee, racing down the stairs towards the farm boy. Without a second delay, Alfred crashed into Arthur for a huge hug, almost throwing the older boy off his feet. Despite Arthur's complaints about him being heavy, Alfred couldn't be happier or more relieved. "You came, Arthur, you came! Thank God you actually came!" Even when both had settled on their feet, Alfred refused to let go.

Luckily, Arthur didn't seem to mind. His own nervousness slowly dissipated seeing how happily he was being received. "Of course I came," he smiled, letting a hand go of the gift crushed between them to awkwardly slide it out of the embrace to hug the boy back. "I got an invitation, didn't I?"

Alfred finally let go, but only to look at Arthur with a pout. "But you were late! I waited for you and looked for you but you weren't there at nine. And you're never late!"

Arthur's cheeks coloured and he looked away sheepishly. "Ah, I uh. . . I'm sorry about that. I was just. . . getting something ready." At least it wasn't a total lie. It didn't take too long since he had the faeries help, but the main reason for his tardiness was his own reluctance to come. If it wasn't for his mother's constant persuading, he wouldn't have been able to push aside his nervousness to come to tonight's party.

"Getting something ready?"

Hearing the suspicion in Alfred's voice made Arthur quickly look up. "It's nothing bad, honest! It's. . . actually something I prepared for you. A surprise of sorts."

The suspicion was instantly gone from Alfred's face and was replaced with a look of excitement. "A surprise? For me?"

Seeing how blatantly impatient Alfred looked, those wide blue eyes glittering under the light of the lanterns, Arthur nodded shyly. "I can show you later. But first I have to greet your-"

"No, show me now!"

". . . Now?"

"Yeah!"

"But. . . I don't have it with me." Arthur paused. "Actually I can't have it with me, that's why I have to show you."

"Then show me!"

"It's. . . not exactly close by though."

"Oh that's okay!"

Arthur frowned, uncertain. "Alfred, it's not something I can just show you and come back right away. Shouldn't you ask your parents first? Actually, shouldn't I _meet _them first and thank them for inviting me?"

"Well technically _I_ was the one who invited you and I hadn't really told them about you coming since they were busy and all so you don't actually have to meet them."

Arthur's frown deepened. So that's why his name wasn't on the guest list. "That wouldn't be very polite of me though," he argued. His mother had explicitly made it clear that he must great the King and Queen, even if the Prince had invited him. They were the head of the most powerful of the Four Kingdoms after all.

But Alfred waved if off. "Nah, it's okay. I can just explain when I get back. You can meet them then!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yup! Now c'mon, let's hurry up and go! I wanna see what this surprise is."

"It's not as great as you're making it out to be," Arthur said. "But alright, alright I'll show you. Don't blame me if you get in trouble. And stop pulling me! Do you even know where we're going? _I'm _the one taking you there, idiot!"

Alfred only laughed as he dragged Arthur by the hand through the palace grounds and away from the party. Yao and his father can wait. Besides, it's not like he said _when _he'd be back.

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

"Not yet."

With a cloth covering his eyes, he couldn't see a thing. But he knew they were passing through a forest. The dirt and pebbles crunching underneath their feet as well as the earthy, nighttime smell of trees gave away the setting. The crickets were singing loudly, almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the river. But with his eyes covered, his ears sharpened and Alfred knew Arthur was leading them down the river. There really was only one main river that traced around and over the land of Spades.

"Are we there yet _now_?"

"Not yet, Alfred."

"Still not yet?"

"No."

". . . What about now?"

"Alfred."

"How 'bout now?"

"Alfred, stop that."

"Now?"

"No."

"Now?"

"No, Alfred."

"Now?"

"No!"

Alfred burst into giggles and Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm so nice to you," Arthur grumbled, playfully whacking Alfred over the head. "Be patient, Alfred, we're almost there."

"I know, I know," Alfred mused. "Just don't crash me into a tree or something."

"Maybe I should," Arthur muttered.

In reality, Alfred definitely wouldn't mind if they kept walking for a little while longer. The relief that he felt knowing that Arthur wasn't mad at him grew warmer in his chest. However at the same time, Alfred felt strangely unsettled at how hot this warmth was actually growing. Just like when Arthur appeared in his thoughts back before Alfred made his appearance before the guests in the grand hall, the same warmth and confusion had arisen. First came the warmth – the confusion and distraught came afterwards. It was just like now, how Arthur's hand around his own felt very comforting and familiar, yet it was like needles were lightly pricking his skin at the same time, making his hands sweat and his heart thump nervously.

"Alright, we're here." Arthur's voice brought Alfred out of his thoughts. When their hands separated, Alfred's hand quickly fell cold at the loss of contact.

But his excitement was sparked back to life when Arthur removed his blindfold. Alfred could hardly believe what he was seeing. They were standing in front of their apple tree but Alfred was looking at it at a whole new light – literally.

The entire tree was illuminated in a soft golden light, as if each branch and leaf ran gold through its veins. Draped across the branches and all around the tree were strings of beaded light. Even the apples were encased in a glittering glow, making them the exact picture of the magical golden apples Alfred often read about in his storybooks.

Alfred looked around from where they were standing. All around them were several oil lanterns to cast away the night shadows. Some hung on trees; others were placed on rocks. But the light of each lantern shone a different shade. To Alfred it looked like the rainbow had decided to live on in the night and separated its colours into every lantern.

Even the river was different than usual. Its waters were illuminated with cyan light and lazily drifting above its waters were illusions of blue goldfish, their lace-like tails leaving trails of light in their wake.

"H-Happy birthday, Alfred."

The Prince turned to his best friend. Arthur stood at the base of the apple tree with a nervous smile on his face, fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt. His usually flaxen hair gleamed an unearthly gold under the magic of the tree, the light further illuminating the blush on his cheeks and the uncertainty in his eyes.

Alfred's astounded mouth closed into a huge smile and his heart swelled in inexplicable joy. In his eyes, Arthur was the best thing there. Of course, everything looked absolutely too amazing for words, but with Arthur being there, it just made everything all the more incredible; it made the picture perfect. It wouldn't have been complete without Arthur standing there looking so anxious and awkward.

Noticing the lack of response and abundance of staring, Arthur's nervous little smile waned. "W-What is it? Why are you staring at me like that?"

Alfred's smile only grew bigger.

"W-Why aren't you saying anything?" Arthur sputtered, looking a little panicked. Knowing Alfred, he would've ran him over in a hug long ago if he was happy. He definitely did not expect the Prince to be staring at him with such a large grin on his face in silence. But if he was smiling it couldn't be too bad, right? "Alfred, say something already!"

That's when Alfred's happiness spilled over and shook him out of his euphoric shock. Finally sprinting over, he collided into Arthur for a breathtaking hug. "Did you really do all of this for me?"

"Well I-. . . it was really the faeries' idea so I had a bit of help. . ." he faltered, noticing how Alfred was staring up at him. It didn't help that he wasn't letting him go from the hug and those large blue eyes were so damn _close_. "D-Don't get me wrong!" he stammered, "I only did this b-because it's your birthday, okay? Don't expect me to do this for you every day or something. It-It's only because today is a special occasion and I thought that, well, since it would be the first birthday we would be celebrating together I would put together something extra so I just asked the faeries for help and-" he stopped when Alfred burst into laughter. "What? What did I say?!"

Alfred teasingly narrowed his eyes and leaned closer into Arthur's face. "I thought you said it was the faeries' idea." He watched in amusement as Arthur's face gradually darkened in colour.

Frantically turning his face away from Alfred's soul-reading gaze, Arthur tried to make an excuse. "I-It _was_ their idea! I just helped, that's all!" In the silence that followed, Arthur realized nothing he said would fool Alfred now. He hesitantly turning his eyes to peak. Seeing Alfred's smug face confirmed his thoughts. "Bollocks," Arthur cursed quietly, giving up. "Alright, alright, I admit it, it was my idea."

Alfred grinned. "I knew it. You don't have to be embarrassed by it though!"

The farm boy made a noise at the back of his throat, probably in weak complaint. Then he turned his face back to look at Alfred with the same nervous expression he had before. "Do. . . do you like it?"

"Like it?" Alfred squeezed Arthur harder and somehow managed to jump up and down with the taller boy in his embrace. "I _love_ it! This is the best birthday present ever! No one's ever done something like this for me before."

Arthur gently wriggled out of Alfred's hug, a shy smile on his face. "Actually, this isn't really your present."

"It's not?"

"Well I guess you can say it's not the main part of it. . ." Arthur walked to the base of the tree and picked the wrapped up gift at its roots. Walking back, he looked more nervous than he did before as he handed the gift to Alfred without a word.

"Another present?" Alfred asked, sitting down by the river to open it.

Arthur sat down next to him. "Technically, this is your actual present." Then he mumbled, "Everything else was just to set the mood."

"Arthur, you're spoiling me," Alfred teased.

"Oh shut up and just open it."

Curious, Alfred tore through the wrapping paper, the sound a little harsh against the chirping of crickets and caused both boys to simultaneously wince at the first rip. Catching each other's actions, they exchanged glances and giggled. Then Alfred continued to unwrap the gift and let out a half-gasp, half-squeak when it was revealed.

Arthur smiled at the reaction, albeit still a little cautiously. "It's not perfect," he admitted, putting the discarded wrapping paper to the side so Alfred could see the gift better, "but it's unique. The only one of its kind."

For the second time that night, Alfred was awed into silence. In his lap was the most beautiful notebook he had ever seen. The blue leather cover was soft to the touch and engraved at the front was the golden symbol of Spades, a crown resting on its point. Feeling something on its spine, Alfred turned to see the initials A.F.J. written in golden cursive near its base. But that apparently wasn't all. Something caught his eye on the back cover and when Alfred turned it over, his breath caught in his throat.

In the same gold printing used for the symbol of Spades and Alfred's initials was Alfred and Arthur's apple tree sprawled out gracefully on the back cover. Its many branches and leaves reached out to the corners of the book and little fruits dangled from them, looking as if they were ready to fall right off. The silhouette looked so real Alfred could swear it was moving. No, wait. It really _was _moving. There were even little birds flying to and from the tree.

"This is what I've been working on all week for you," Arthur explained, feeling his nerves settle a little seeing how hungrily Alfred was drinking in the gift.

"You. . . made this?" Alfred asked incredulously.

A tad insulted, Arthur huffed. "I did! Well, of course I had help, but everything you're holding there was designed and put together by me. Speaking of which, you owe Erika an apology. If it wasn't for her and her father I wouldn't have learned how to make this for you."

Alfred blinked. "What?"

"The reason I was spending time with her was because I was learning how to make this notebook for you," Arthur sighed tiredly. "That's all. Not because I was trying to replace you or whatever other silly things you were thinking about that day."

"Oh. . . so that's why," Alfred said, laughing guiltily. Then he paused, realizing just how silly he had reacted the other day. "Sorry, Arthur. I really am. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that."

Arthur smirked. "Apology accepted. But it's not just me you owe an apology to. Make sure to say sorry to Erika too."

"I will, I will." Alfred looked back down at his new notebook. Excitement made its way back up his throat and he giggled. "Oh gosh, I can't wait to write in this! I'll write in it every day, I promise!"

"Why are you promising me?" Arthur laughed. "It's your notebook, you can do whatever you want with it." But then his expression quickly darkened, realizing what he had just said. "Just don't ruin it."

"I won't!" Alfred reassured, brushing his hand over the front cover fondly. "How can I when it's so awesome?!" He looked over at Arthur with startling genuineness in his bright blue eyes. "Arthur, this is seriously the best thing I've ever gotten before. Thank you so much!" He flung his arms around the other boy, stretching a little from how they were sitting.

Arthur used a hand to gently touch the boy's arm, a timid smile on his face. It's only been recently that Arthur's been responding to Alfred's hugs, since they came far too often for Arthur's tastes. But it's because of how frequently Alfred gives him hugs that Arthur knew the difference between each one. This one wasn't quite like the others – it was sincere; mature. This was one of the hugs that weren't unwanted or unnecessary and Arthur warmly welcomed it with a slightly faster-beating heart.

"Is it honestly the best thing you've ever gotten as a gift?" Arthur mused, his breath tickling Alfred's ear. "That's a little hard to believe considering how you're a prince. You probably get gifts a hundred times more expensive than this."

"It's not the same though," Alfred said, letting go to shake his head. "They don't make things by themselves or put any thought into it. They pay other people to make them and sure, some of them are really cool, but. . . it's just not the same, you know?"

"But didn't they come up with the ideas? That counts for something, doesn't it?"

"No, even that doesn't happen anymore. They would just pay a bunch of people to come up with something, or have a competition and they choose which one they like best."

"Oh. . ." So maybe royalty wasn't as nice as Arthur had originally thought. But it must be nice to be able to use money so conveniently.

"That's why I'll take special care of this, because you made this with your own hands and ideas! But seriously, Arthur, how did you make the tree move like this? It's amazing."

Blushing at the compliments he's not used to receiving, Arthur tried to play it cool. "It's not that hard, really. I just added some magic ingredients to the material and casted a charm to help it move. It's the stuff I've written in my journal about." He pointed at the fish floating over the river. "It's how I made those too. Everything you see here are things I've learned from others and they're all written in my journal so I can remember. "

"You have to teach me," Alfred insisted, reaching out a hand to try and touch the flying fish. Sensing his touch, they avoided his hand and instead, circled around his hand and up his arm, playing a little game of tag. Ecstatic, Alfred tried to catch one but when he finally managed to get one, it disappeared and reappeared to the side of his fist, like smoke.

Arthur raised an amused eyebrow. "And here I thought you weren't interested in anything but dragons and Attack Magic."

"That's 'cause I didn't know what they were for or what they could do!" the Prince argued. "Promise me you'll teach me some time?"

Arthur laughed and relented. "Alright, alright, I will."

"Yay! I can't wait!" Placing his precious journal on a rock away from the water, Alfred stood up and walked up the small hill to try and get a closer look at the tree. "What about these? How did you make the tree glow like this?" He gently tugged at a branch and drops of water splashed onto his clothing. The stains glittered, as if Alfred had tiny patches of light on his shoulders.

"Careful!" Arthur called out, dashing over. "I had the faeries help me with this. I borrowed their faerie dust and encased it in water with a spell. Then I just divided them off into little dew droplets or put it over the trunk and branches. So everything you see is basically water. Careful you don't get yourself wet."

"Whoa that's cool," Alfred grinned, brushing away the remnants of the water and dust off his shoulders then seeing the sparkle on his fingers.

Arthur smiled in silent agreement, but then his expression changed. Suddenly he looked a little cautious and his words came out slow and careful. "The other day. . . you said you had a fight with the King." He glanced over at Alfred for his reaction "Is everything okay?"

". . . What?" Alfred had not been expecting that change of subject and his mind didn't quite follow what Arthur was relating to.

"Yesterday, when you came to find me, you told me that you had a fight with your dad and came looking for me to talk about it. Remember?"

Now that Alfred thought about it, he did tell Arthur about his reason for looking for him in the first place yesterday. But he had said it so lightheartedly and quickly he didn't think Arthur would notice or pay any mind to it, let alone remember to ask him about it. The memory of the fight with his father came flooding back and so did those hurtful words. The bitterness came back to weigh heavily on his chest, but the fact that a day had already past numbed the feeling.

Alfred's smile was a little lopsided. "I didn't think you would remember."

Arthur scoffed. "Of course I would. Not only did you say that you were sad 'cause you couldn't talk to me about it, but. . . you were acting really strange." Arthur wanted to add that it was also because there was something off about Alfred's smile that day but as if he could admit it out-loud.

Alfred didn't bother smiling this time, which Arthur thought to be an odd sight to see considering the boy always had a sunny smile on his face. Had the fight been so bad that it was still able to wipe away the Prince's smile in an instant? "Alfred, if you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, I'll tell you. I want to tell you." He sat down at the base of the tree, eyes stormy as he collected his thoughts. "Father used to always play with me when I was younger. He, my mom, and I spent a lot of time together. We used to always go out horseback riding or have picnics in the summer; and during the winter we would build snowmen together and read by the fireplace in the library. . .

"But then my mom got sick and nothing was the same anymore. For the past few years my dad has been nothing but grumpy. He almost never eats with us, always locked up in his study doing work, and every time he talks to me it's always about duty related stuff. Whenever I want to talk to him about something it's like he doesn't hear me or doesn't _want _to hear me. Especially when he tells me to do something I don't want to do and I complain, he doesn't listen to anything I say!"

Arthur took in Alfred's troubled expression a little unwillingly. Other than when they had their little fights, he had never seen Alfred with such a face. It suddenly made the Prince look much older than he actually was and it was during moments like these when Arthur felt strangely unsettled. This Alfred was unfamiliar to him.

And that frightened him. It frightened him knowing that he didn't know Alfred as well as he thought he did. There were still a lot of things Arthur has yet to learn about Alfred, and to be more specific, the Prince of Spades.

Alfred started picking at the grass in front of him. "Yesterday was the first time I had seen my father in a long time and the only reason he summoned me was to tell me to get along with the Ivan even though he _knows _we don't get along and we don't like each other."

"Ivan?"

"The Prince of Clubs."

Arthur swallowed. "Oh." He knew of the long, tangled history between the Spades and Clubs kingdoms. It wasn't a pretty one. It was a well-known fact that the royal families of both kingdoms couldn't get along with each other. Guess it still remains true to this day.

"Did you know, Arthur, that the last time Ivan and I met, he told me that my father doesn't visit Mom and I that often because he thinks I'm a lost cause and that. . . he knows that my mom's gonna die soon? So he's looking for another Queen?" He turned his eyes, teary and mad, towards Arthur. "He told me Mom's gonna die and that's a lie! He's lying!"

"I know, I know," Arthur placed a hand on the boy's back, rubbing soothing circles to calm him. "And what did you say?"

"I told him he was lying of course! And then I punched him."

Arthur looked mortified. "You. . . _punched_ him?!"

"I couldn't hold back, Arthur, you've gotta understand!"

"Yeah, I-. . . I understand." Arthur nodded but was still in disbelief. To punch a prince. . . if someone other than someone of similar or higher rank did that they wouldn't live to tell the tale. "Then what happened?"

"We kept fighting until our parents showed up and broke up the fight. He almost broke my nose, that guy, and my father made me apologize and _still_ wanted me to get along with him today!"

"Well, you were the one to throw the first punch."

"But he started it!"

"I agree, it was completely rude of him to say those things, but I don't think the right way to handle it was to punch him, Alfred," Arthur chided. "Especially if he's another prince that you'll probably have to work with in the future."

Alfred sniffed in annoyance. "I know that. My father yelled at me for hours after it happened." Then Alfred remembered him meeting said Prince of Clubs today and his anger cooled. "But he apologized today."

"Who, your father?"

Alfred snorted. "Him? Apologize? Never. No I meant Ivan."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I could barely believe it," Alfred smiled wryly. "And I actually think he meant it for once. We actually didn't fight today. Well, kinda. We disagreed, but we didn't fight for once."

"Well that's good. You can tell your father about that and maybe that'll make him happy."

Alfred hesitated. "He'll probably just say that it's my duty that I get along with Ivan anyway." Technically it was, but Alfred was never the one to pay much attention or care to his duties.

Arthur shrugged. "I still think you should tell him. It's a good thing after all and judging by the way he's been acting, good news is what your father needs to hear the most."

"I guess. Yao says that Spades hasn't been doing well for the past few years either. And with my mom being sick and all. . ."

"Yao. . . as in Yao Wang, the Jack of Spades?"

Alfred nodded and Arthur couldn't believe how easily Alfred was going around naming these important people like they were equals. Well, now that he thought about it, to Alfred, these were people he grew up with so obviously he was familiar with them.

"Then all the more reason to tell your father the good news about you and Ivan."

"Yeah. . . I guess I will. But sometimes Father just makes it so hard to talk to him. Sometimes I feel like he's doing it on purpose."

"But he's still your father, Alfred. If he was that nice to you and your mother before today then that means he's just worn out from all these bad things that's been happening. . ." Arthur paused. "You should try to get along with him whenever you get the chance. You never know what might happen."

The way Arthur had said that last part made Alfred turn to him. Then he noticed how downcast Arthur's eyes looked as they stared down at the hands in his lap.

Oh. Right. Arthur didn't have a father anymore. The guilt resurfaced and Alfred remembered the conversation he had with Arthur's mother the day before.

"I uh. . . heard about your father from your mom yesterday," Alfred said cautiously. Then he sighed. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I shouldn't be complaining about my father when yours isn't even here."

Arthur turned his head in surprise. He almost forgot Alfred really did meet his mother already. What conversation were they having that they brought up his father? Arthur mentally shook his head. It didn't really matter now anyway. It was actually sweet of Alfred to remember and feel guilty, even if he had no reason to be.

"It's okay, Alfred, you don't have to feel guilty for complaining. It's not like I can do anything about it anyway," Arthur assured the other boy. "Just. . . don't give up on your father, okay?"

"I won't. I'll keep trying." He hesitated to ask his next question. "Do. . . you remember anything about your father?"

Arthur shook his head. "Mom says he passed away in an accident when I was three. So I can't remember much about him except this one time. . . Well, the memory's really blurry but I think I was on the swings with him. He was carrying me on his lap and we were swinging together."

There was something about Arthur's bittersweet smile that made Alfred's chest tighten. He didn't like seeing Arthur sad even if he hid it behind a smile. He loved nothing better than to see Arthur smile that shy smile of his or to hear him laugh out loud. To Alfred, those were the most rewarding things he has ever experienced.

But before Alfred could say anything, Arthur shook his head to dismiss any stray thoughts. Turning to Alfred, he said, "Well, no matter. As long as you get along with your father, I'm happy."

"Yeah, alright, I know." He paused. "I uh. . . still have to talk to him about Titania too so. . ."

"You still haven't talked to him about it?!"

Alfred winced. "He's been too busy! I didn't even see him until yesterday and how can I ask him that when he's too busy telling _me _what to do?"

Arthur huffed, relenting. "Alright, fine. But just don't forget about it, okay? I don't want the Faerie Queen to hunt us down again after what happened."

"Hah, neither. . ."

The subject was dropped and when Arthur spoke again, his voice was gentle. "Alfred?"

"Yeah?"

"You're not a lost cause by the way. No matter what anyone says."

"Thanks, Arthur."

Any remaining talk of fathers – happy or not – or royal duties or unhappy memories eventually faded into the back of each of the boy's minds as they began to focus on catching up with each other about the past week. Both were eager to change the topic, now that temporary solutions were set, and hungrily delve into what had happened in each other's absence. Arthur went on about the magic he had learned and used and Alfred explained how a royal birthday party is prepared and perfectly executed. Alfred jokingly sling-shot a glittering branch to make it rain wet faerie dust on them (much to Arthur's annoyance because the stains were a pain to get out) and Arthur set his fish to chase after Alfred in revenge, making the Prince trip over his own feet trying to avoid being blinded by clouds of glowing, blue smoke.

When the fireworks began to go off, the two sat and watched them come alive. Some took shape of a dragon and roared away at the night sky before exploding. Others formed the Spades' symbol and flag, waving proudly. Flowers of all shapes and sizes bloomed in the sky above the castle and the trees, creating a picture perfect view from where the boys were sitting.

As the two children lay on their backs to look up into the night after the show was over, Alfred pointed out a shooting star. "Quick, Arthur! Make a wish!"

"Oh please, you don't believe those actually work, do you? It's just a myth made up for childr-"

"Shh! I'm making a wish!"

"Tsk, idiot." But he shut up nonetheless.

Alfred tightly shut his eyes. _'I wish Arthur and I will be together forever. No matter what happens!'_

". . . What did you wish for?" Arthur asked after a while, regretfully curious.

"You can't say your wish out-loud, Arthur, or else it won't come true!"

Arthur flushed pink. "I-I knew that! I just. . . wanted to see if our wishes were the same."

"Arthur!" Alfred rolled over on his side to look at him, grinning wildly. "You made a wish?! Didn't you say it was just something for children?"

Arthur's cheeks darkened to red and even Alfred could tell under the pale light of the moon that Arthur didn't really believe that. "S-So what if I did. I still made a wish didn't I?"

"So what did you wish for?"

"Alfred!" Arthur rolled onto his side as well to face his best friend, mocking Alfred's previous actions. "Didn't you just say you can't say your wish out-loud or else it won't come true?"

Alfred pouted. Oh yeah he did say that. Arthur laughed at the boy's expression and rolled back to face the sky, an airy smile on his face.

But Alfred didn't. He kept looking at Arthur's face, half-lit by the golden light of the tree and half-illuminated by the brilliance of the moon. All of a sudden, he was hit with a strong sense of determination and he reached out to grab the hand closest to him, making Arthur turn to him in surprise.

Alfred stared into Arthur's eyes, startling the farm boy with how serious he looked. "Arthur, we'll be friends forever, won't we?"

After a moment, Arthur's eyes softened. "Forever's a long time, Alfred," he whispered.

"I know."

"We'll have fights."

"I'll try not to start them."

Arthur chuckled. "Same, but we'll still have them."

"I know."

Arthur thought for a tad. "You're a Prince. I'm just a farm boy."

"That doesn't matter," Alfred insisted, squeezing Arthur's hand.

"But it does! One day you'll be King, Alfred. I can't be beside you then."

Alfred thought about it. Arthur had a point. But there were ways around it. With new found determination he looked back into Arthur's eyes. "Then you can be my Queen."

Taken aback, it took a few seconds before Arthur's face flushed a brilliant colour. "D-Do you have any idea what that means?" he sputtered after recovering from the shock. When Alfred shook his head, he said, "That means we have to get _married_, Alfred."

Then it was Alfred's turn to blush. "Oh. . ." But for some reason he didn't feel totally against it. "W-Well whatever we'll eventually find a way. But even when I do become King. . . you'll still be my best friend, won't you Arthur? No matter what?"

At first, Arthur opened his mouth to continue on about all the possible trials friends can go through, but then he saw how intently Alfred's blue eyes were staring at him. The light of the moon made his eyes glow silver and the light from the tree made his hair shine a rich amber. To Arthur, Alfred looked unearthly.

"Yeah," he finally said in a hushed whisper. "No matter what."

When the boys finally parted for the night, promising to meet tomorrow at their usual spot and time (and that Arthur will meet his parents another day much to Arthur's fear of getting Alfred in trouble), both were left with a sense of completion. The reassurance that their promise had brought resonated stronger than both of them had imagined, and the seriousness of it was a little startling.

But no one was complaining.

By the time Alfred arrived back at the castle, there were very few guests left and Alfred instantly knew that he was going to be in a whole lot of trouble if any of his parents or Yao found him now. So sneaking in from the back and up the ivy that he used for a ladder in cases like these, Alfred hurried into his room and locked the door. No one could ruin how blissfully happy he was and if they were insisting on it, they would have to break down his door in the middle of the night to do so.

Once he was clean and dressed for bed, he sat at his writing desk and grinned at the coloured lantern he had brought home. He had asked Arthur to enchant the wick so that it would change colours whenever it was lit. Now it flared a beautiful rainbow of colours, reminding him of how magical everything had looked by their apple tree. Then he turned to something even better: his notebook, already flipped open to the first blank page.

He was pleasantly surprised when he first opened it to find that the backside of the front cover had an inscription on it, written by none other than Arthur. With a finger, he fondly traced over the words printed in Arthur's familiar writing:

_Now you can write down your own magical adventures. Happy eighth birthday, Alfred. _

_~ Arthur K._

Alfred ran through all the memories he could choose from to write as his first entry. There were so many possibilities! But then after several minutes, Alfred came to a realization.

Grabbing his favourite fountain pen and smiling so large his cheeks were hurting, Alfred's heart swelled as he placed his pen to the top left-hand corner of the page. In a few seconds, the ink was set and the title was finished. Alfred grinned at his genius.

Printed with practiced, but childish font was the name Arthur Kirkland – Alfred's favourite adventure of them all.

* * *

**Finally! I finally present to you the hardest chapter I've written so far. All 12,900 words of it! Hurray for this being the longest chapter so far!**

**But you have no idea how many times I got stuck writing this chapter. It's mostly because I'm the type of person who likes linking between chapters and foreshadowing (I'm a sucker for foreshadowing OTL), so if I haven't figured out the ending to some stuff, I can't figure out how I'm going to write the stuff that's happening now. **

**Although I have to say, Ivan was the hardest person to write so far. I love him to bits, but I guess I have to do more research on his character. I like to think Alfred and him have a "frienemy" relationship. They respect each other immensely but at the same time, can kill each other if necessary. As well, don't be alarmed that I made little Ivan skinny and small. I like to believe he's one of those kids that suddenly have their growth spurt in their late teens – the kind that gives you a heart attack at how different they look. Yeah, the guy will bulk up eventually. Don't think this is the last time we'll be seeing him.**

**Thank you so much for all your reviews. They give me so much encouragement you have no idea. **

**Let me know of any mistakes and/or questions and/or comments! I always love hearing from you guys and I'm always trying to improve my writing. **

**See you all in the next chapter!**

**P.S. Notice how Alfred and Arthur have the same thoughts in regards to each other and how they realize that they have yet to learn about each other? ;D**

**P.P.S In case you guys didn't notice, Ivan's father and Alfred's father used to be close childhood friends until the inevitable feud between the two Kingdoms tore them apart as they rose to their positions as Kings. I just didn't want to expand too much on it during the story since it won't be brought up again. . . I think. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Alfred Franklin Jones, how _dare _you?!" The King of Spades rammed his fist onto his desk. The tea cup nearby toppled over, spilling its contents onto the surface and floor. But at the moment, he could care less. "Do you have _any_ idea what you've done?! Your actions last night could possibly ruin what little chance we have left in reconciling with the Clubs! What did we talk about last time, huh? It's like you didn't hear a single word I said! When will you actually use that useless brain of yours to listen for once?! When will you learn that there's a price to pay for your damn insolence?!"

Alfred's jaw hurt from how hard he was clamping his teeth together and his hands were clenched so tight his nails almost broke the skin. He had been shaken awake by Yao first thing in the morning. The moment he opened his eyes and saw the dark expression the Jack wore on his face, Alfred knew what awaited him.

"Do you have idea what kind of situation you put me in when that blasted King of Clubs came to me saying you left Ivan in mid-conversation; what kind of image that gives me?! And to make matters worse, I couldn't even lie my way out of it because I had absolutely no idea why you – or anyone for that matter – could do something so incredibly _stupid_ even after our talk! What the hell were you thinking, abandoning Ivan like that?! Do you know what happened in the end? They left! The whole damn family. Right in the middle of things all because _you_ decided it would be a good idea to leave your guests behind!" His eyes narrowed and the conversation took a sour turn. "And for what? A mere commoner?! Alfred, have you lost your damn mind?!"

"Arthur's not a commoner!" Alfred fought back. "He's my best friend!"

"What?!" the King roared. "That's completely unacceptable! I won't allow it! I will not have you wandering around with the likes of that boy when you're perfectly capable of befriending other royalty!" He shook his head disapprovingly. "Cut off your ties with this commoner immediately. I want you to have no relation to him. This has gone far enough."

"What, no!" Alfred felt his blood begin to boil. To yell at him for leaving the party was one thing, but to belittle Arthur and their friendship to his face was something Alfred would absolutely not stand for. "You can't just decide that! You can't tell me what friends I can or can't have!"

"As long as you are the Prince of Spades and I am the King, I have every right to decide who you can have as friends," he answered coldly. "This is not up for discussion. Get rid of that commoner immediately."

"Don't talk about Arthur like that! He's a good person and he did nothing wrong!"

The King flared. "You're telling me he did nothing wrong when he came to the palace last night and made you abandon your guests? Your duties?! You have the gall to tell me he had no part in keeping you out so late our guests had to return home without a single word of greeting from you?!"

"It's not his fault, it was mine!"

"Oh, so you admit it was your fault."

"I never said it wasn't. And for your information, Ivan and I got along fine last night."

"Don't play this game with me, Alfred," the King warned, pointing a finger at him. "I'm willing to lighten your punishment if you stop seeing that commoner and if you promise me never to befriend people like that again."

"But-"

"You will also personally apologize to Ivan next time we visit the Clubs. Getting along with him once doesn't change anything, especially not after you left like that. You will also write out a formal apology to all of the guests for behaving so rudely last night."

Alfred glared at the King when he finished. "I refuse."

"What?" the King bristled.

"I won't promise you that!" Alfred shouted. "Can't you even consider how I feel about this?! Arthur's my first and only friend. I don't want to lose him just because _you_ think he's not good enough! I should get to decide who I can have as friends! Not you!"

"With your judgement being just as dreadful as your manners, I cannot give you the liberty to do so," he seethed.

"But it won't happen again!"

"How can you be so sure?! If you keep that commoner with you who knows when something like yesterday can happen again? I want your little stunt last night to be the first and the last, you hear?! Frankly, I wish it didn't have to happen at all, but now I have no choice. In the end I'm always the one cleaning up after your mistakes!"

"_You _have no choice? _I _have no choice! You're not even bothering to _give_ me a choice!"

"You haven't _earned_ the right for me to give you a choice!"

Alfred practically growled in frustration. "Arthur is _my _friend! I should get to decide these things!"

"Not while you're the Prince of Spades you don't!"

"And what if I wasn't?! What if I don't want to be Prince?!"

"That is completely out of the question. You cannot just deny your birthright."

"Who says I can't?! If being Prince means I have someone like you controlling my life then I don't want it!"

The King's face turned red. "Someone like me?! How _dare _you speak to me like that! Alfred Franklin Jones, I am your father!"

"Oh really? 'Cause you've never acted like it! When was the last time you even spent time with me?!"

Another fist came down onto the desk. "Everything I do is for you and for this family! I don't have time to play around with you when I have your future to worry about!"

"Why should you worry about my future?!"

"Because you're my son, how could I not?!"

Alfred scoffed. "Oh, so you still remember I'm your son? Then why don't you treat me like one? You say you're doing everything for my sake but isn't it more for yours?! It's not my fault Spades hasn't been doing well! It's not my fault our relation with the Clubs isn't good!"

"Well you're certainly not helping!" the King snapped. "We're a family, Alfred, and families need to support each other."

"But when have you ever supported me?! And how can you even call us a family when it's been months since you've even _ate_ with me and Mom?! When was the last time you even had a normal conversation with me?! What about going horseback riding or visiting the library?! It's like you don't even exist and you still think you can call us a family?!"

"If you think being a family just means being happy all the time then you need to wake the hell up, Alfred! This is the real world! We don't have time to deal with things like this when there are real problems out there!" The King jabbed an accusing finger at his son. "And if you're not doing your part then you have no right to complain for mutual support."

"Doing my part?! You're just using me to try and get on good terms with the Clubs!"

"So what if I am?"

"I'm not a tool!"

"Alfred, it's your duty! You are the Prince of Spades-"

"I AM YOUR SON!" Alfred screamed.

The sheer volume and intensity of Alfred's outburst was enough to abruptly cut the argument off, and just when things were getting much too loud it was now much too quiet. Both males stared at each other in silence and Alfred couldn't help but notice that this was the first time his father ever have a look of shock on his face, albeit faint and hardly noticeable over his rage.

Alfred's whole body shook from the emotions pouring out from every inch of him and the frustration alone made his eyes water. But Alfred would not let himself cry and tried to hide the tremors in his voice when he broke the silence.

"You asked what kind of image I gave you last night, well I know exactly what it was. It was that the King of Spades doesn't even care enough to spend time with his own son to know enough about him! You don't need me to mess up for other people to see that!" Alfred's voice hitched up at the end and he paused to swallow. "How do you think it feels to not see you for months at a time and when I do, the only thing you talk about are my stupid duties or the things I've done wrong or what I should be doing? How do you think I feel seeing everyone else with their parents when Mom's sick in bed and you're never home? And even when you are you never leave your study to even eat with me? It feels like I've been abandoned by my own father, that's what! And I hate it! And now you're asking me to get rid of the only friend I have? Just so you can keep using me without any interruptions?! Well I won't! I _won't_ promise you and I _won't_ abandon Arthur!

"Do you know what Ivan said to me last time we fought? It's that the reason you don't come home is because you're busy looking for a new Queen! Well maybe he's right after all. You don't want me anymore because I keep messing up, and you don't want Mom anymore because she's sick, isn't that right?! Because she's dyi-"

"That's ENOUGH!"

Alfred instantly shut up, not because of how loud the King had shouted or how the King had hit the table so hard there was a crack now, but because of the venomous look the King was giving him. With the window behind him casting his face into shadows, the King's blue eyes were icy and murderous as they locked with Alfred's.

Alfred wasn't looking at his father – he was staring straight into the eyes of a rabid beast.

The King slowly raised a shaking hand and pointed a rigid finger at the door. "Get out. Now. I don't want to see you. I don't even want to hear you. You don't want to be Prince that badly? Fine. From this day forth, you are no longer the Prince of Spades. And since I have no use for a son who does not want his birthright, I will be taking away not only your title, but your relation with me as well. I no longer have you for a son. . . and you no longer have me for a father." His eyes narrowed. "This is no longer your home. Get out of my sight."

Without the need to be told twice, Alfred turned to go. But when he reached the door and opened it halfway, something made him stop. Whether it was out of pride or wanting to have the last word or just for the hope of hurting his father like he had hurt him, Alfred said in a frighteningly calm manner, "At least I can choose who my friends are. It's sad that I can't choose who I my father is." Without waiting for or wanting a reaction, Alfred left, closing the door behind him.

It wasn't too much of a surprise to see Yao standing opposite to him with a look of distress on his face. The two shared a tense minute of silence until Yao awkwardly cleared his throat. The fabric of his robes rubbing together was deafening as the Jack shifted his weight. "Alfred, I-. . . I'm sure your father doesn't mean it."

"You know better than anyone he never takes back what he says," Alfred said emotionlessly. "And he's not my father anymore."

"But Alfred, you know how he has a temper. If. . . If I just talk to him, I'm sure your father-"

"I just told you, he's not my father anymore!" Alfred shouted. "You heard him! You heard everything! He doesn't want someone like me: a king's son who doesn't even want to be Prince," he spat bitterly. "Well I don't care anymore! It's not like he was much of a father in the first place. Whatever. I'm leaving!"

"Alfred," Yao reached out to stop him but Alfred just shook him off.

"Just leave me alone!" he cried before he took off sprinting down the hall.

He didn't stop running. He wanted to get away from there. Away from the shadow that chained his blood to the cold-hearted King he had for a father. Away from this palace that forced the title of Prince on his head. Away from the sadness and pain and sorrow and neglect. He wanted to run away from it all.

And the only place he knew he could escape to was wherever Arthur was.

It was a little like déjà vu, running down the forest path leading to their secret oasis. But this time, Alfred could see everything clearly. Tears weren't blurring his vision and his legs felt strong. But unlike before, his heart was a million times more broken than before. Dry sobs escaped his mouth and cries of frustration and hurt echoed around him. But nonetheless his eyes remained dry.

It wasn't until he reached Arthur's house did the shock begin to melt away. It wasn't until Arthur opened the door and Alfred looked into those clear, green eyes did he let everything consume him.

So even as the reality of it all hit him early on, it wasn't until Alfred was in Arthur's arms did he finally break down in tears.

* * *

The last thing Arthur expected to see when he opened the door was Alfred. It was even more unexpected when the first thing Alfred did was run straight into him for a hug and proceeded to cry his heart out.

Right there and then, Arthur swore nothing would ever scare him more than seeing and hearing Alfred cry.

In a panic, he instinctively wrapped his arms around the sobbing Prince and rubbed his back. "Alfred? What happened to you? What's wrong? What happened? Are you okay? Wait, of course you're not okay, but seriously, what happened?" His questions and thoughts sputtered out, desperately hoping for some kind of explanation but clearly Alfred was too shaken up to reply. Within seconds, Arthur could feel his shoulder getting soaked by the Prince's tears.

Luckily, Arthur's mother heard the commotion and came down the stairs, a troubled expression already on her face. "Is that Alfred? Oh my, what on earth happened to him?"

Arthur helplessly looked at her over his shoulder. "That's what I'd like to know."

"Arthur dear, could you bring him up to your room, please? I'll be right up with some tea once I get the kettle going. Be a dear and try to calm him down, won't you?" she asked her son, entering full on mother-mode as she closed the front door.

"I'll try," Arthur mumbled, shifting so he could take Alfred upstairs. Climbing up was more of a struggle than he had thought since Alfred's legs clearly decided to stop working, and it didn't help that the Prince's vision was so blurred by the tears that he kept stumbling over the steps. After what seemed like forever, they finally made it to Arthur's bedroom and sat on the bed.

Alfred's sobs had quieted down but the tears were still flowing and his breath was still shuddering. Pretty shaken up himself, Arthur rubbed comforting circles on Alfred's back as he sat beside him. It was more frightening than he would've liked to admit, seeing Alfred like this. And so suddenly too. He had barely finished breakfast when Alfred had come knocking at their door and having a sobbing Alfred collapse in his arms was not how Arthur had envisioned his morning.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly, not really expecting an answer seeing how Alfred wasn't exactly capable of doing so. So they sat wordlessly until Arthur's mother came up with a tray in her hands, two tea cups and a full, steaming tea pot resting on it.

She set it down on Arthur's desk and turned to the boys. "How's he doing?" she asked her son as she knelt down in front of Alfred.

"Hasn't said anything yet," he answered, taking back his hand to anxiously pick at a loose thread on his shirt. "I figured it'd be best to wait until he was ready."

Nodding to acknowledge the answer, Arthur's mother placed her hand on Alfred's head to gently comb her fingers through his hair. "You take as much time as you need to feel better, alright? Arthur's right here and if you need anything from me, I'll be right downstairs, okay?" Furiously wiping at his eyes, Alfred couldn't do anything but nod. Smiling sympathetically, Arthur's mother stood and turned to her son before leaving. "Take care of him."

"I will," Arthur replied, smiling as she gave his cheek a loving pat. With that, she left and closed the door behind her, giving the boys their privacy.

Arthur pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Alfred. "Here, use this." Alfred took it gratefully.

Deciding to give Alfred some more time, Arthur stood and busied himself in pouring the tea. "Mom told me you like her tea," he said idly, trying to lighten the mood. "I always thought it was better than the expensive ones you buy in the market." Sitting back down beside Alfred, he handed the cup over to him. "Careful, it's hot."

"Thanks," Alfred croaked out, sounding all stuffy from his blocked up nose. It was a little difficult trying to blow on the hot liquid when his lungs were still heaving and his breath was still broken, but eventually, he managed to take a few sips without burning his tongue. He visibly relaxed when the sweet tea travelled down his throat, soothing not only his body but his wracked nerves as well.

"Feeling better?"

Alfred turned his pink, swollen eyes to Arthur. "A little."

Arthur nodded in approval. "Keep drinking then."

"'Kay."

Several minutes passed with just the two boys enjoying their own cup of tea. Not a word was spoken and not a question was asked. The only thing that filled the silence was the soft slurping of tea and the clatter of cup to saucer. It wasn't until Alfred was completely done did Arthur speak.

He took Alfred's cup from him. "I'll get you another." Standing up, he walked over to his desk for a refill. He glanced over at Alfred several times before he finally asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Alfred had been expecting the question and he within the time Arthur had given him, he had been prepared to answer. But despite that, he gripped his hands together, body still shivering from remaining sobs, and shook his head helplessly. "Not really," he admitted. Now that his tears had stopped, it was like his whole body was drained of energy; void of emotion. All that's left were the ashes of his anger and the bitterness of the hurt weighing on his heart like lead.

"Okay," Arthur answered simply. He walked back over and handed the cup to Alfred.

It took another full cup and a half of tea before Alfred was eventually able to retell everything that happened since he woke up that morning. His voice had failed him several times along the way and he was very close to tears on multiple occasions, but Arthur never failed to take his hand and squeeze it in encouragement whenever it happened. With the comforting warmth of Arthur's hand and the knowledge that Arthur was there with him, Alfred managed to explain it all until the very end.

And when it was all over, a heavy silence filled the air as Alfred let the information settle. Arthur's face was pulled into a frown as he processed it all and Alfred looked down at their conjoined hands, now sweaty and hot. Their tea cups were now long forgotten to the side. "So. . . I'm not a Prince anymore." He laughed wryly. "I guess I should be happier since it's what I've always wanted but. . ."

Arthur quietly scoffed. "Who can be happy when it happened like that though?"

". . . I guess. . ."

After a while, Arthur huffed. "What kind of father does that? What kind of father says that to his son?" he muttered angrily. "I mean, it's one thing to punish you, but to take away your title like that is-. . .is just plain rotten." Alfred didn't respond and kept focusing on Arthur's hand in his. He was just so tired and numb now that Alfred wasn't even sure if he wanted to agree with Arthur or just change the subject. Still, it was nice to see him fret like this.

Seeing the younger boy's lack of response, Arthur worried his cheek, shoulders sagging as he sighed out whatever remained of the anger he developed from hearing Alfred's story. "I'm sorry, Alfred, it-. . . it was my fault for keeping you out late. If I was only persistent enough to make you stay at the party instead of-"

Alfred raised his head to quickly cut him off. "Don't say that! It was totally my fault for not listening. You tried to stop me, but I made you take me."

"But-"

"No buts!"

Seeing the determination in Alfred's eyes, Arthur smiled a little and decided not to argue with him. "Yeah. . . I guess it was mainly your fault," he joked lightly.

Alfred returned the smile, much to Arthur's relief, but it only lasted for a few short seconds before it dropped. "Are you mad at him for saying those things?"

Puzzled, Arthur furrowed his brows. "Mad? Of course I'm mad, he said such awful things to you!"

"Not at that." Alfred shook his head, looking guilty. "For calling you a-. . . a commoner and stuff."

Arthur's mouth formed a silent 'oh' in realization and he looked down at his lap. "Well. . . it's not like it's not true. I am just a commoner."

Alfred's head snapped back up, his blue eyes flashing angrily. "But you're not just that! You're my best friend!"

"Not to him, I'm not," he said, shaking his head. Arthur was well aware of his own status and it wasn't uncommon for him to be called that, but it still hurt to hear it, especially when said so insultingly – and by the King, no less.

Alfred pouted. "Who cares what he thinks? He has no right to say things like that."

Arthur sighed. "Well, he is the King."

"That doesn't mean he can bully you like that!"

Arthur didn't disagree. "It's hard to believe he's your father."

"I really wish he wasn't." Another silence enveloped them. "Arthur, you-. . ." Alfred choked on his own nervousness. "You're not friends with me just because I'm the Prince, right?"

Arthur looked at him incredulously, clearly very offended that Alfred would even suggest such a thing. "Of course not! Who do you take me for?" But then he frowned, understanding the reasoning behind Alfred's question. "Your father didn't say that, did he?"

Alfred shook his head. "No. . . but he might as well have." He made a tired, whining sound in his throat. "I tried, Arthur, I really did. I wanted to get along with him and I tried to reason with him, but nothing ever works. A-And it doesn't help when all he does is tell me about everything that's wrong with me and-. . . and I know he's right an' all, but I still get mad over it, and. . . and. . ." Sniffing, he wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve, depressed all over again. He was still wearing his royal attire but he could care less about soiling the expensive fabric right now.

Arthur shushed him by placing a hand on his upper arm and giving it a firm squeeze. "There's nothing wrong with you," he said sternly. "Don't ever think that."

Alfred looked up with his eyes, a timid smile on his face. "But you always say I talk too much or do things before thinking or that I'm too loud or-"

"I-I say a lot of things," Arthur hastily interrupted, cheeks tinging pink. Looking away guiltily, he could see the smile Alfred had on his face out of the corner of his eyes. "But I never really meant to be mean about it," he mumbled.

Alfred giggled a little half-heartedly. "I know, Arthur." He fondly intertwined their fingers together, feeling his own cheeks go a little pink at the meaningful contact. Of course he knew Arthur never meant any malice. That was just the way Arthur was. And after only a few weeks of spending practically every day with him, Alfred knew all there was to know about Arthur's personality: how his face was always set in a default scowl whenever he wasn't reading a book or mentally preoccupied in something; how he always said empty threats and insults whenever he was embarrassed; how easily he blushed even when he was mad (especially when he was mad); and how he always tries to hide his smiles, rare as they are, because he thinks he looks weird. It all just came down to the fact that despite being grumpy on the outside, Arthur was really just a softie who didn't like to admit it. Alfred could list so much more, but for now, he was just relishing the comfort and familiarity of Arthur being beside him. Just for Arthur to be there was all he needed.

Arthur, on the other hand, felt like he needed to reassure the younger boy just a little more. Somehow the conversation felt unfinished to him. So with a thoughtful look on his face, he said, "Mom told me that. . . when people are angry, they can say the meanest things. Sometimes they won't even mean it but they'll say it just so they can hurt the other person. But in the end, they just regret everything they say. Almost all arguments are like that." He paused. "So. . . I wouldn't get too depressed over what your father said. I'm sure he feels just as horrid as you do now. "

Alfred grimaced and his temporary happiness mellowed out. "I just wanna forget about it. Can we. . . talk about something else now?"

Arthur tensed, sensing the change in Alfred's mood. "O-Okay. . . but, you're still going to have to deal with it later, you know that right?"

Sighing in mild annoyance – not at Arthur but more at the truth behind his words – Alfred nodded. "I know, I know." He knew Arthur was doing his best to help – the gratefulness of having someone as caring as Arthur for a friend was comforting enough – but Alfred couldn't bring himself to even think about his father now. With his story told, all he wanted to do was just stay here in Arthur's house, with Arthur, forever.

But it looked like Arthur wasn't finished what he was saying. "And when you do have a talk with your father again, I hope you know that-. . ." Alfred watched Arthur's cheeks go pink. For a second, Arthur looked like he was having second thoughts, but after some internal debate, his green eyes hardened with resolve and he squeezed Alfred's hand. "I just want to let you know that whatever happens, you'll still have me. I'll be here for you."

But immediately after, Arthur panicked. Alfred was giving him such a shocked expression that he thought he had said the wrong thing. It only made him feel worse when Alfred's face scrunched up and his eyes grew watery. "I-I'm sorry! D-Did I say something wrong?" Arthur worried. But instead of responding, Alfred suddenly wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck, surprising the older boy.

"No, you-. . . you didn't say anything wrong," Alfred sniffed, voice cracking. "It was everything right." He felt Arthur relax upon hearing his words.

"Then why are you crying, you idiot?" he laughed softly, returning the hug tenderly.

Alfred nuzzled his face into the arch of Arthur's neck, letting his tears, now so full of happiness and relief, run down his face. "Because you always know exactly what to say," Alfred whispered. It was like all the ashes that remained had been blown away by a warm, summer breeze. And Arthur was the sun.

'_Because you exist. . . Because I'm so happy I have you for a friend. . . Because without you, I wouldn't be able to feel this happy. . . _

"_Because I. . . Because I. . ."_

* * *

Back at the palace, the Queen was definitely not happy to hear what her husband had done. It didn't help that she only heard about it close to dinner time. She had been confined to her bed all day to recover after last night's party, but nothing could stop her from hunting down her husband after hearing about Alfred's situation. She stormed through the halls with determination.

She then ran into Yao along the way, who immediately paled upon seeing her. He dashed over to her side in a panic. "Your Majesty!" he cried. "What are you doing out of bed?!"

She huffed at the Jack, waving him away as she continued to walk down the hallway. "I appreciate your concern, Yao, but I question whether your feelings are genuine." Yao sputtered in surprise. It was rare to see the Queen so irritable and the Jack wracked his brain to figure out why. The Queen, sensing his confusion, sighed heavily. "Why was I not informed about Alfred's situation?"

Realization washed over Yao's face as his thoughts clicked into place. "I. . . didn't want to disturb your rest, Your Majesty," he said guiltily.

"Oh please," the Queen scoffed, rolling her eyes. It was very unladylike, but with only Yao present and her mood so dampened, she could care less. "The King ordered you not to say anything to me, didn't he?"

Yao smiled at her sheepishly. "I really can't hide anything from you, can I?"

She let out a short laugh. "Not while I still have breath in me." She turned the corner and began to climb up the stairs to the King's study. Yao cautiously hovered beside her, tense in case something were to happen.

"Who told you?" he inquired.

"The chambermaid."

He smiled wryly. "Rumors sure travel fast."

"Well, considering how loud the King gets in his arguments, it's not much of a surprise, now is it?"

"I suppose not."

"Where do you think Alfred gets it from?" the Queen shook her head as she finished her climb up the stairs.

"Well, the King's not the only culprit for Alfred's stubbornness," he said chuckling.

Arriving at the door to the King's study, she turned to Yao with a humourless smile on her face. "You're right about that. Now if only one of them can learn to grow up." Without bothering to knock, the Queen pushed the door open.

The King, sitting at his desk with documents in his hand, glanced up. When he saw just who it was approaching him, he quickly put his papers down, preparing himself for what's to come.

The Queen stood in front of him with a sweet smile on her face. After an elongated silence, "Hello, dear," was all she said.

The King glanced over at Yao who stood near the closed door. The Jack shook his head ever so slightly with wide, warning eyes. _'Don't look at me. I can't help you out of this one,' _his expression seemed to say.

Clearing his throat, the King turned back to his Queen. It was a mystery how his wife was able to strike fear into their hearts with just a simple smile. Women were really something. "My Queen," he greeted. "Rested well since last night, I presume?"

"Marvelous," came her curt reply, her smile unmoving.

There was an awkward pause. "I. . . spoke to Alfred this morning." He paused to glance at his wife who merely smiled wider. It was terrifying.

"Yes, and?" she prompted. "How did it go?"

Oh lord, she knew exactly what happened yet she still asks? The King swallowed hard. "Not. . . exactly. . . as planned."

"Oh? Really now? That's a surprise," the Queen said, looking anything but surprised. "If my memory serves me right, last night we agreed for you to have a talk with Alfred about his behaviour, correct?" The King didn't even have time to give answer before the Queen continued. Clearly she wasn't wanting one. "Is that not what you did this morning? Have a talk with Alfred? I was so sure that if you spoke to him _calmly _he would understand the wrong of his ways and accept the consequences dutifully. I wonder then, what could've possibly went wrong if your _talk _didn't go as expected? Do enlighten me, dear, what exactly went wrong?"

More awkward silence. The King couldn't quite meet the Queen's eyes. "Well, it. . . wasn't really a talk. I. . ." the King rubbed the back of his neck, "I lost my temper with him. But in my defence, why should I bother holding back when his actions were unacceptable?!"

"Oh, and I suppose stripping him of his title and kicking him out of house and home was acceptable?" the Queen retorted disapprovingly.

"You didn't hear the things he said to me!" The King stood from his seat. "If you did, you would understand that I did what I had to do." The Queen didn't respond and stared hard at her husband. The look on her face instantly told the King she was reading his broken memories of this morning's argument. "It was the only way I could get that boy to learn!" he insisted.

"What could Alfred possibly learn from you doing such a thing?! What do you think he'll learn from you tossing him away when he already feels abandoned enough by you?!"

"He didn't want his title! It was his choice!"

"No, it was _your _choice," the Queen said furiously. "What choice did you give him? None! You just cornered him into accepting that choice!"

"I gave him choices!"

"Of what? Leaving behind his only friend only to chain him to his duties? To continue living the life in the palace he already can't stand? My King, with all due respect," she scoffed, "you didn't give Alfred choices. You disowned him!"

"You knew of that commoner?!"

The Queen sighed. Of course that would be the only thing he picked up. "I did."

"And you didn't say anything against it?"

"Why would I?" she frowned, a warning in her eyes because she already knew the answer, but the King was too outraged to notice.

"It's impossible for Alfred to befriend someone as lowly as a commoner!"

The look in the Queen's narrowed eyes was dangerous enough for the King to flinch. "Have you forgotten where I came from? Do you not remember the kind of life I had to live before I was lucky enough to be found and taken in as royalty? My status back then was just as low if not worse than that boy right now!" she fumed.

"This and that are different things!"

"The only difference is the change in status! If I hadn't been found by my family and was nothing but a beggar, would you still have loved me? Would you still have asked me to be your Queen if you saw me dressed in rags and covered in dirt?"

The King's eyes softened ever so slightly. "I would."

"Then you should understand how Alfred feels. He cares not of status or appearance. What he sees is the heart. As did you when you were younger. What changed?"

He sighed – a painful, tired sound – and that was all he answered with. Luckily, his Queen needed nothing else. She shook her head. "If you know that it was because of you becoming King, then why hold Alfred back? Why deny him at such a young age?"

He exhaled sharply. "It's because he's still young that I can't have him getting attached to that commoner! Right now, he should be focusing on his studies and duties; he should be building his base while he's still Prince. Not wasting time outside the palace, frolicking with that boy out there!" He shook his head. "_We_ met when we were already teenagers. We were different. But Alfred-. . . Alfred barely understands the difference between right and wrong. How could I possibly explain to him what befriending someone with a lower status could do to his future; his reputation? Banishing him for not leaving that other boy was the only way Alfred could learn to appreciate what he already has!"

The Queen scoffed. "And what do you know of what he has? A father who's not a father but a King who can't see past his crown? And a mother," she laughed sadly, "who hardly has the right to call herself a mother when she's enslaved to an incurable illness and chained to her bed. . ."

The air in the room suddenly darkened and the Queen turned her eyes back to her husband. There was no longer any anger on his face and she had to admit it was refreshing to see him have some shame. At least that meant he still had a heart despite acting so cruel and childishly. "The fault to Alfred's feelings are not your own. I, too, share the blame. But it was wrong of you to push him into accepting such a decision. You have no right to criticize his dislike of his title as Prince when you are the main cause of it."

The King tensed and looked away. "Do you think I wanted things to be like this? I wish more than anyone for things to go back to the way it was before; when all I had on my mind was what present to give my wife on her birthday and where to take my son on our next outing. But I no longer have the time to consider these things anymore when the future of this kingdom is at stake."

"Alfred is our only son. He _is _the future of this kingdom. And if you can't accept his best friend or convince him to come back, then you can forget about having a future at all."

* * *

"Whew, I'm full!" Alfred sighed contently, leaning back into his chair and patting his protruding belly.

Arthur turned his head to look over at him from the kitchen sink. "About time you finished. Do you eat this much every day? I'm surprised you're not fatter," he teased.

"Hey! I may eat a lot but I'm not fat!" Alfred argued.

Arthur's mother giggled from her spot across from Alfred. "There, there, Alfred, don't mind him. I personally couldn't be happier to see someone else enjoy my cooking. It's been forever since we've had another seat join us at the table. It's always been just Arthur and I for years!" She smiled and leaned a little closer to Alfred, lowering her voice so her son wouldn't hear. "Arthur's always been difficult so this is the first time he's ever had a friend over."

"I heard that!"

Alfred's eyes grew wide in delighted surprise. "Really? So. . . so I'm the first friend to be here?"

Arthur walked out of the kitchen to interrupt. "Honestly, you're the first friend for everything," he mumbled, his expression halfway between a pout and an embarrassed frown. "You're my first friend, period." Avoiding Alfred's sparkling eyes, Arthur quickly gathered up his mother's plates and utensils and hurried back to the kitchen.

Grinning, Alfred stood up and piled up the remaining plates. "Here, lemme help!" he said eagerly, feeling his heart squeeze joyously. Even as Arthur stood at the sink with his back turned, Alfred could clearly see that his ears were redder than the apples they eat from their tree.

But when Alfred reached for the plates, Arthur's mother snatched the pile away from him with a look of mock-horror. "Oh heavens, no! Don't be ridiculous, you're our precious guest! How dare you do such a mundane chore like cleaning up? What kind of host would that make us?"

"Aw, it's really nothing!" Alfred insisted, taking the plates back. "I don't mind! You made such a delicious dinner it would be rude of me not to help clean up."

"My, my," Arthur's mother giggled, and a dark mutter of "Flatterer" could be heard coming from the kitchen. She reached over the small table to fondly ruffle the boy's head. "You certainly were raised well," she said, keeping the tone of her voice light. Arthur had let her know of the situation so she treaded lightly in mentioning anything to do with his family.

But Alfred had let the undertone of it all completely fly over his head. At the moment he was too busy trying to keep his fork and knife from falling off the plate in his hands to linger on her words having any deeper meaning. "Hey, Arthur!" he called out, eyes still intensely glued to his utensils as he moved towards the kitchen. "Teach me how to wash dishes!"

Arthur grumbled something incoherent under his breath; something about royalty not being able to even wash their own dishes. "There's really nothing to teach, you just use this sponge and some soap – hey, careful you don't drop those!"

Arthur's mother watched from her seat as the boys stood together at the sink – Arthur directing Alfred on what to use and how to use them, and Alfred washing dishes for the very first time. The scene looked so natural and heartwarming that she couldn't help but smile.

But then suddenly her vision swirled and the sounds became distorted. A strong wave of dread crashed over her and her whole body grew cold. The warm scene of her kitchen and the boys disappeared and new images played out in front of her. Frightening images. These kinds of precognitions were the ones she dreaded to see the most; the ones that forced their way into her head and robbed her heart of warmth as she watched yet another person die. But today's was the worse to date. Today, it wasn't just someone she knew, it someone even her son knew. And she could do nothing but watch in horror as he died before her very eyes.

"-er?. . .-ther. . . Mother!"

She blinked, startled. The dark images faded and she was back in her dining room. Turning her head to the source of the sound, she saw Arthur and Alfred looking over at her. Arthur's face was dabbed with several blobs of soap foam and Alfred had a large poop-shaped pile on his head. Both their shirts were practically soaked through and puddles of soapy water were everywhere on the floor. Clearly, she had missed a major bubble fight and she would've laughed at the end result if it wasn't for the worried look on her son's face.

She smiled as if nothing was wrong. "Sorry, honey, I was lost in my thoughts. Did you say something?"

But Arthur wasn't fooled. "Did you have another one of those visions again?"

Alfred quickly caught on, remembering his conversation with her from last time and his look of curiosity instantly fell from his face. "Was it. . . one of those bad ones?" he asked, fearful.

Arthur's mother looked over at the little Prince and felt a stab of guilt. He had looked barely past twenty when she saw. . .

She nodded in response. "Yes, it was one of those."

"Was it someone you know?" Arthur asked.

"No," she lied.

Alfred made a frustrated noise. "Isn't there anything we can do? Maybe look around to find the person? Or draw their face and ask other people?"

Arthur answered for his mother. "She's tried to before, but it's never worked. It never works." He paused uncomfortably and turned his eyes to the floor. "Usually when it comes to death, there's no escaping or changing it. That's just Fate."

Alfred huffed. "Fate sucks. What's the point of seeing it when you can't do anything about it?" Unfortunately, no one knew the answer and the question nestled heavily into the air.

Arthur's mother stood from her seat and supported herself momentarily with the table. These visions always made her so lightheaded; her heart, on the other hand, heavy. "Boys, if you don't mind, I'll retire to my room early tonight. It seems the after-effects of this one are not relenting. However, if you do need anything, don't hesitate to call on me, alright?"

Arthur nodded. "We'll be fine, Mom. You go up and rest."

Alfred second that. "Don't worry 'bout us! I hope you feel well soon."

She smiled. "Thank you, boys. And Alfred, feel free to stay the night. Just be sure to let your parents know one way or another." Alfred's eyes widened and he nodded so hard Arthur thought his head might snap off.

So bidding the boys goodnight, Arthur's mother turned to go up to her room, dragging her feet slightly as she climbed the stairs. Physically, she felt drained. Not only did her feet feel like paperweights, but her head felt like it was filled with cotton. She had to take her time going up the stairs and pause whenever she saw double.

On the other hand, her heart felt clear as glass. There was no mistaking the sharp stabs of guilt and fear that now taunted her chest. But with the glass-like clarity came delicacy. The anxiousness was almost enough to make her resolve shatter to pieces. A new level of dread filled her as she thought back to her vision.

One part of her knew that it would be impossible for her to change anything. Yet another part of her wanted so badly to do something – _anything_ – to prevent Alfred from getting killed. . .

Especially when it was Arthur's hand holding the dagger in the future King's chest.

* * *

"Arthur, since I'm not Prince anymore, does this mean I can live with you from now on?" Alfred asked the boy situated between his feet. The two were on the swing a few feet away from the house and while Arthur did the swinging, Alfred stood above him enjoying the breeze as he watched the sunset.

Arthur scoffed from below. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure the King's searching for you right now to take you back to the palace. At least they know where you are now." Arthur had shown Alfred how to send an Aerial Message – where the letter would drift through the sky towards the intended person after the spell had been cast – and Alfred stared in awe as he watched his letter fly off towards the castle.

"Well I don't want to go back."

Arthur sighed. "I know that. But I've been thinking. . . I don't agree with the King saying what he said but I can't help but agree on one thing, and that's you abandoning your title as Crown Prince."

"But _he's_ the one that took away my title!"

"And _you're_ the one who didn't want it. If you tell him that you're willing to be a proper prince then I'm sure he'll take you back."

"But his definition of being a proper prince means leaving you behind!" Alfred gripped the rope a little tighter. "I don't want that. We made a promise, remember?"

Arthur stopped swinging his legs, letting them brush against the ground to slow the momentum. Of course he remembered. "But. . . have you thought about what will happen if you're not Prince? What's going to happen to Spades?"

Alfred shrugged. "I dunno. Haven't thought about it."

"Of course you haven't," he said, his words more accusing than he had intended. Arthur stood up from the swing once it stopped. "Who's going to be King after the current King's gone? Are you really just going to let someone else take your place like that?" When Alfred said nothing in response, Arthur turned to him, a worried look on his face. "You know that Spades isn't doing well. And it's true. Mom won't tell me anything, but I can tell. Every month we're having less and less to eat and she always looks so worried when it's time to pay taxes. Even in the village, everyone's struggling."

Alfred thought back to earlier that evening when he and Arthur went out to buy ingredients for dinner. They had left the house with enough money to buy several things and yet, they barely had half of what they needed coming back. And they had spent every piece. "But what has that got to do with me?" he asked, not liking where this conversation was going.

Arthur's eyes softened. "You don't like him as a father. But the rest of us doesn't like him as King. Everyone's been saying how he does nothing but put money into things we don't need. Like strengthening our boarders against Clubs rather than fix the trading routes, or investing in weapons we don't need or over-producing with our tax money." He stared at Alfred, searching for some kind of reaction to see if he was crossing a line. "A lot of us have been angry at him for a long time. And really, the only person who can help us is you."

Alfred remembered his mother complaining to him in the past about his father's reckless behaviour. He would be boorish and impulsive one minute then oppressive and brooding the next. It was either too much or not enough. If it weren't for Yao, his mother had said, the King would've collapsed long ago.

Alfred swayed his feet on the swing. "But what can I do? It's not like he'll listen to me."

"Then the only way is for you to become King. A proper King of Spades." Arthur hesitated. "No matter the cost."

Alfred's eyes widened and jumped off the swing, reaching out to grab Arthur's hands. "You don't mean-. . ." He couldn't even bring himself to finish the sentence.

Arthur didn't meet his eyes. "If your father doesn't approve me, there's no reason for you to give up your title because of me. You should just focus on working hard to become King so Spades can get better."

"Arthur, I can't just abandon you!" Alfred cried, squeezing the older boy's hands. "We promised that we'd be best friends no matter what!"

"I know, Alfred," he said, strained. "But you being King is more important than-."

Alfred furiously shook his head. "Nothing is more important than you!" he shouted, startling Arthur to look at him. "Don't say things like that! Things like leaving you just so my father can give me back my title, or that being King is more important than you, or that everything would be better if we separated. I won't accept that! As long as you stay with me I don't care if the world ends!"

Arthur's face flushed a brilliant red that reached all the way up to his ears. "I-Idiot!" he stuttered, using a hand to turn the boy's face away. He couldn't look into those blue eyes now. "You're the one who needs to learn to s-stop saying things like that!"

"What things?" Alfred asked, muffled by Arthur's hand pushing on his cheek. "That nothing is more important than you? Or that as long as-"

"Argh, shut it already! I get it! I get it!" Arthur used both hands to squish the boy's cheeks together. "I won't say things like that again, okay? J-Just. . . stop. . . saying such weird things."

Alfred let out a garbled laugh through his squished cheeks. "Okay!"

Sighing in attempts to calm himself, Arthur turned back to the house. "We should be heading back now. The sun's already set and we don't have a lantern."

Pouting a little, Alfred stared at the horizon, as if accusing the sun from setting. He eventually relented and hurried to follow after Arthur, falling in step with him. Glancing up at the older boy, Alfred hesitated a little before timidly taking Arthur's hand in his. He felt Arthur flinch at the sudden contact and he hurried to say an excuse. "I'm just scared I'll trip. I-It's too dark to see."

There was a second of pause before Arthur cleared his throat. "O-Oh, okay. Y-Yeah, just watch your step," he said nervously. Even in the faint light of twilight, Alfred could see Arthur's blush. He felt his own blush deepen as his chest bubbled in happiness.

He didn't stop grinning the whole way back.

* * *

It was around noon the next day when there were three, firm knocks at the door. Arthur nearly collapsed on the spot when he saw two palace guards, a messenger, and a carriage when he opened it.

The messenger bowed in greeting. "Good morning. Is this the Kirkland residence?"

"Y-Yes?"

"Then I presume you are Arthur Kirkland?"

Arthur nodded.

"I have received orders to-"

"If you're here to take me back then do it! Leave Arthur alone!" Alfred interrupted, immediately running to stand in front of Arthur in a defensive manner.

Not looking the least bit fazed, the messenger bowed again. "My apologies, Your Highness, but I have received no orders to take you back. My instruction was to safely escort Mr. Kirkland to the palace. However, I have been told that you are welcome to come along if you would like."

Alfred blinked. "You're. . . not here for me?"

"That is correct."

"But. . ." Alfred shook his head to rid of the confusion. There were more pressing matters at the moment. "Then what do you want with Arthur?" he demanded. Nothing good could come out of Arthur being summoned to go to the palace. He swore, that if his father was planning to do something to Arthur, Alfred was never, _ever _going to forgive him. Especially when he knew that the King was willing to do anything just to get his way.

"The details were not disclosed to me," was the messenger's simple answer and nothing more. He turned to Arthur. "If you are ready, Mr. Kirkland, please follow me to the carriage."

Arthur swallowed nervously. "W-Who. . . Who exactly is it that wants to see me?"

The messenger looked at him, confused. "Why, the King and Queen of Spades, of course. Now if you would please come with me, they do not like to be kept waiting."

* * *

**Did you guys know I lost this file three times? Three times?! Three separate times, when I tried to open this file, it was unreadable. I've never been so frustrated all my life. And at the time, I just finished the argument between Alfred and the King too. . . the hardest dialogue to write out of all of them. I basically had to write three versions of it. OTL**

**But I finally finished this chapter thanks to this Thanksgiving long-weekend. Gave me a chance to push back my schoolwork a tad so I could work on this. **

**Again, let me know what you guys think or if you spotted any mistakes. I always appreciate your support. Every follow, every favourite, and ever review is a treasure to my heart. **

**See you next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"Well, at least they're still calling you Prince."

Alfred looked up at Arthur sitting across from him and pulled a face. Right now, the whole 'you're-no-longer-Prince' situation was the last thing on his mind. The fact that Arthur was being summoned to the palace was bothering him more. He didn't like it. Alfred didn't know what to expect. And he didn't like that either.

Arthur, seeing the lack of response from the younger boy, decided not to press further and the rest of the ride was swallowed in silence. Alfred, for once, didn't seem to mind. Or rather, he was too deep in his thoughts to mind. After what seemed like forever – yet, too soon for Alfred's taste – they finally arrived at the front of the palace. Stepping off the carriage and eyeing the already opened doors made Alfred stomach do flip-flops.

Arthur didn't look so good himself. In fact, he looked a little green. "I swear, if I throw up in front of royalty again I'll just un-friend you myself and save your parents the trouble," he grumbled.

Alfred didn't laugh. Instead, he stood at the base of his home, staring at its looming, white walls wishing it wasn't.

Arthur shivered next to him. "It looks so different up close. Sort of like. . . it's taunting you."

Alfred didn't argue with that.

The messenger began to head up the stairs and the boys followed. "Please follow me," he said as they entered through the doorway. He gestured to their left and down the corridor. "Right this way."

"Aren't we going to the throne room?" Alfred asked, frowning.

The messenger turned to walk, leaving the boys no choice but to follow. "Mr. Kirkland is to be taken to the garden," was his simple answer.

Arthur looked over at Alfred, hoping for an explanation, but Alfred was too busy trying to figure things out himself to notice Arthur's glances. A little exasperated at Alfred's uncharacteristic behaviour, Arthur walked closer to him and elbowed him in the side.

"Ow!" Alfred cried out. "What was that for?"

"Would you stop doing that?" Arthur huffed.

"Doing what?"

"Overthinking or. . . whatever you're doing. You're making me more nervous."

Alfred nursed his injured ribs. "Sorry. I'm just trying to figure things out."

"Really? I couldn't tell." Alfred stuck his tongue out at the sarcasm and Arthur sighed. "At least tell me what you're thinking of. You've stopped talking ever since we got on the carriage and you _never_ stop talking. Don't tell me you didn't notice?"

Alfred shook his head and Arthur resisted the urge to smack a hand to his forehead. "Well anyway, you chose the wrong time to shut up," Arthur joked half-heartedly. "What are you thinking about anyway?"

Alfred stared in front of his feet. "Nothing, really. Well-. . . basically nothing. That's just the thing, I don't know what to think. Everything's just. . . weird. We're not following procedure and it wasn't even me they summoned. Not to mention they're taking you to the garden of all places. . ."

Arthur fidgeted and sent Alfred an anxious look. "You don't think they really called me over just to tell me off, do you?" Alfred's stomach churned uncomfortably at the thought. He saw no reason to suggest otherwise. He must've looked especially frightened because Arthur hurriedly grabbed to hold Alfred's hand in his. "B-But I won't listen! We made a promise, remember? And I don't break promises."

Alfred felt enough heaviness lift from his chest for him to smile. "Right, we promised." They exchanged timid smiles and their hands tightened their hold. Both boys still had a nervous lump lodged in their throats but after reaffirming their promise they could at least swallow it and let it tie itself into an anxious knot in their stomachs.

After what felt like forever, they finally arrived at their destination. Standing in front of a delicate looking glass door, the messenger turned to the boys and bowed. "If you could please wait here inside the garden, I will announce your arrival to Their Majesties. I am also to inform you that you're welcome to explore the garden as much as you desire."

"Oh, uh. . . okay. Splendid. Thanks," Arthur said, not sure how to properly answer.

Seemingly content with the answer, the messenger turned and left, disappearing around the corner.

Arthur breathed out a sigh of relief and turned back to Alfred. "I really wish I knew what was going on because everything seems-" Arthur's breath caught in his throat as his eyes focused to just over Alfred's shoulder. "Whoa." His green eyes widened in awe.

With the sun at its peak, the garden was completely bathed in warm sunlight. Shrubberies lined the perimeter and a stone path was carved between the assorted flowers, practically begging to be walked on. Arthur eagerly complied, completely forgetting his anxiousness.

The garden wasn't big (Arthur saw bigger even on his way here) but something about this garden was different. The way the flowers were arranged and how the colours complimented each other were unlike anything he's ever seen. The aroma of the fully-bloomed flowers mixed alluringly into its own special perfume and quickly eased Arthur's nerves into a dream-like trance. There were flowers he had never seen before and even those that Arthur knew from heart were barely recognizable through its brilliance. Every flower was in its prime: opened to the fullest and proudly standing its tallest.

Alfred watched his best friend wander through the garden and felt his mouth tug into a grin. Seeing how elated Arthur was made Alfred's own fears slowly ease away. Arthur looked like a completely different person with his glowing smile and it made Alfred's heart go all pitter-patter seeing him like this. How his green eyes sparkled; how his face glowed. Alfred hurried to Arthur's side. "I wanted to show you when you came to my birthday party, but. . . well, things came up," he giggled. "Do you like it?"

"Who wouldn't?" Arthur knelt down to examine some orchids. They were even bluer than Alfred's eyes, and that was saying something considering just how brilliant those eyes could be. "I've never seen anything like this," he said, clearly thrilled. "Everything's so well taken care of and neat and beautiful and-. . . and _lovely_. Oh Alfred," Arthur turned his vivid eyes to him, "I love it."

Alfred felt his throat go dry and his smile faltered. Something about the way Arthur said _'love'_ while looking straight into his eyes with that intense expression and fiery sincerity made his breath hitch in his throat. Arthur must have noticed because no later did his face flush a very, _very_ bright red and he turned his eyes away. His mouth opened and closed rapidly; stuttering as he desperately searched for something to say.

But before he could, Alfred hurried to interrupt him. "I-I'm glad to hear it!" he squeaked. His voice sounded too strained and too loud to be normal. "I knew you would!"

Arthur shut his mouth and turned his wide eyes back to Alfred. Realizing what was happening, Arthur let out a nervous string of giggles. "R-Right!" he laughed. Alfred joined him, his laughter sounding just as nervous, but both of them quickly died down into awkward silence.

There was a pause before Alfred cleared his throat to change the subject. "How 'bout I show you around?" he offered.

Arthur smiled gratefully. "Yes, please."

Alfred guided Arthur through the garden, showing him all the little hidden corners and bends. The afternoon sun illuminated all the different colours and thickened their sweet smell. "My mother's the one that takes care of this garden," Alfred said. "Even though she's sick, she won't let anyone else touch it."

"No wonder it's so pretty." Arthur smiled wistfully. "I thought there was something special about this garden."

Alfred echoed Arthur's smile. Whenever Arthur allowed himself to smile, Alfred couldn't help but do the same. "Father gave it to her when I was born. The three of us spent a lot of time here but-" His smile dropped like an anchor was attached to it. "But that was a long time ago."

"Oh." Arthur knew it would better to leave it at that.

So he did.

For the next few minutes, the two just leisurely walked through the garden, Arthur asking Alfred for the names of the flowers he had never seen before and Alfred answering the best he could.

"I'm surprised you know them," Arthur said teasingly.

"It's about time you realized how smart I am," Alfred grinned, jutting his chest out proudly. He wasn't about to admit he had purposefully read up on them just so he could impress Arthur if he ever showed him. But it was a good thing he did.

Arthur snorted. "More like you remember the oddest things. If only you could use that memory of yours in your studies."

Alfred wrinkled his nose in distaste. "But those things are boring."

"Really? I don't think the things you learn all that bad." Arthur looked genuinely surprised.

Now it was Alfred's turn to snort. "That's because you actually like reading."

"And you don't? You read my journal just fine."

"That's because it's interesting! History, geography, trading and all that doesn't even come close!"

"Well I think they're fascinating."

"Well that's because you're weird."

"Hey!"

Alfred dodged a hit aimed for his arm, giggling.

Another quarter of an hour passed with the boys just enjoying the garden and each other's company when another person joined them. The messenger reappeared just as the boys were admiring some roses and he bowed in greeting. "The Queen of Spades," he announced. He stepped to the side with his head inclined to reveal the grand Queen and her escort behind him.

Arthur, wide-eyed and alert, immediately knelt. "Your Majesty."

"Mom?" Alfred jumped to his feet and ran up to his mother with a look of bewilderment that rivaled Arthur's. "What-? How-? Why-?" He struggled on what to say first. Somehow, he settled for, "It's you!"

The Queen laughed softly and used her hand to brush through her son's bangs. "Yes, darling, it's me. I'm afraid I've grounded your father," she said, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "He needs some time to himself to think about what he's done. Until then, you won't be seeing him anytime soon."

Alfred couldn't even begin to describe the relief he felt hearing that he wouldn't be seeing his father today. Or even for a while. But then again, he was too young to notice the tinge of sadness in his mother's eyes. After all, no son should be afraid of his own father to this extent.

But the Queen just recomposed herself and her gentle smile. "Now, don't you think it's time you finally introduce me to this best friend of yours?"

Alfred's eyes brightened, all signs of anxiousness gone. "Oh, right!" He ran over to Arthur with his mother in tow. Arthur, on the other hand, was still kneeling with his head bent so low his chin was practically glued to his chest.

"Rise, Arthur Kirkland. Let me take a good look at you."

Arthur hesitantly stood and raised his eyes timidly up to meet the Queen of Spades. It was his first time seeing her so close and she practically shone with royal pride and posture. But compared to the Faerie Queen, she was so much warmer. Her baby blue eyes were soft with kindness and the gentle curve of her features were melted in a smile. That smile grew when Arthur's eyes met hers.

"No need to be so nervous, my dear boy. Come, take a walk with me."

Swallowing so hard it was visible, Arthur carefully paced himself beside the Queen as they walked through the garden. Alfred tagged along beside him, an easy smile on his face.

"How do you like my garden, Arthur? I made sure to give Alfred some extra time just to show you around."

"Oh, it's beautiful," Arthur said without missing a beat. For a split second, his love for nature was enough to lift the pressure he was feeling under the eyes of royalty, but it returned as fast as it came. His eyes dropped back down and he mumbled, "I-I mean, I really like it, Your Majesty."

A short second passed before the Queen laughed out-loud. Like, really _laughed_. Alfred only ever heard it on occasion.

Alfred grinned. No wonder family friends often said he laughed like his mother.

The Queen's laughed subsided. "Oh no, don't hide that exhilarating enthusiasm. In my opinion, we need more of that around here. It's been a while since I've seen such raw excitement from anyone other than Alfred."

Arthur's ears reddened and he looked down. "Thank you, Your Majesty," he said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

She smiled in response. They approached a small sitting area designed to fit perfectly under the shade of a large willow tree. Its thick lower branches swooped low to the ground, offering a makeshift fence to protect those sitting in the marble seats between its arms.

"So tell me, Arthur, how did you meet this rowdy son of mine?" The Queen brushed off some dirt on one of the seats and sat. She patted the space beside her. "Come, sit a while with me. I wish to know the whole story."

Nervously, Arthur sat, and hesitantly, he told the story of how he met Alfred – how it all began with the drop of an apple. The more the story unfolded, the more he relaxed. His body became more animated and his voice became more expressive. Although it was a short story and something Alfred already knew himself, the words he used and the way he said them made Alfred feel like he was experiencing everything for the first time all over again.

So when Arthur was cut off by one of the servants' approach, Alfred practically growled in annoyance.

"Your Majesty-oh! My apologies!" the girl bowed. "I've interrupted you."

The Queen said nothing to scold her nor accept her apology. She merely acknowledged the girl's presence with a slight turn of the head. But Alfred wasn't happy. He would have happily done the scolding. And he would have done it if his mother didn't say anything.

"Is there something you need?" she asked.

"Oh! Um. . . well it's just that we're done grooming the West gardens and many of us apprentices weren't sure where to dispose of the weeds. Our supervisor disappeared somewhere and weren't sure where else to turn except to you, Your Majesty." The girl adjusted her glasses, leaving a streak of dirt on her cheek and looking antsy. She was hardly a teenager and was looking practically anywhere but directly at the Queen. "I've even brought the basket. We've picked so many, see?" She picked up the wooden basket by her feet and tilted it to show it to them. Indeed there was an impressive pile of yellow flowers almost falling over the edge.

The Queen open her mouth to respond but to Alfred's surprised, Arthur beat her to it. "Oh no, those aren't weeds!" he cried out in horror. He walked towards the girl looking intently at the contents of the basket.

"T-They're not?" the girl stammered, startled.

"No, these are calendulas! They're a type of medicinal flower. We usually use them for wounds like burns and cuts and even stomach-aches. These aren't weeds at all!"

"But-. . . But how do you know?"

"Calendulas are slightly more orange and you can see its round center. Weeds sort of just look like a fluff. Do you see it? Also, do you see how these leaves grow from the flower's stem? Weeds have leaves that fan out from the base of its stems, not on it."

Realization swept across her face and now the girl looked mortified. Her eyes watered behind her glasses as she frantically looked from the flowers to the boy, to the Queen, then back to the boy, and back to the flowers. "O-Oh no! Wha-. . . What do I do? What do we do? What can I do?" Her wide eyes returned to the Queen. "I-I'm so sorry, Your Majesty, I had no idea! Had I known these were important we wouldn't have-"

The Queen raised a hand to silence the bumbling girl who looked scared enough to burst into to tears. "I understand perfectly. No need to apologize so vigorously, my dear." Calm and collected, she stood and approached the picked calendulas, picking one up to examine them. "Thankfully, you've picked them at a good time. Not at their peak, unfortunately, but close enough to not render them useless." She set the flower back down. "Take them and any others you picked to the head pharmacist. He'll know what to do with them and I'm sure he'll put them to good use."

"O-Okay! Yes, Your Majesty! I'll do that right away, Your Majesty! I-I apologize once again for our mistake!"

The Queen nodded. "You may go."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" It took her less than a second to manoeuver herself out the garden doors.

Alfred watched her go. After seeing how panicked she was, he couldn't bring himself to be mad at her for interrupting anymore.

The Queen turned to Arthur. "I'm surprised how quickly you reacted, Arthur. I'm impressed."

Arthur smiled lightly. "My mom taught me. I help her get ingredients for medicine all the time."

Something in the Queen's eyes sparkled. "Then that makes my calling you all the better."

Arthur blinked up at her. "P-Pardon?"

"I'm sure you've figured out by now there's a reason why you were summoned here today." The Queen paced out her explanation while walking back to sit on her seat.

Arthur followed. "Y-Yes."

"For what reason, do you think?"

Arthur shifted his weight around nervously and Alfred frowned at his mother's amused expression. "Mom, why wait for his answers when you already know?"

Arthur looked over at him, confused.

"My mom's a Psychic," Alfred explained. "She can read your thoughts."

The Queen pouted. Arthur could see where Alfred got his pout from. "Aw now, Alfred, you've ruined all the fun." Alfred grinned but Arthur just looked terrified. She quickly reassured the boy. "I mean no harm in doing so, Arthur. It's more of a precaution when I meet new people. One must take such steps when her son, who also happens to be Crown Prince, makes a new friend, you know? I hope you're not offended in any way."

Arthur pressed his lips together, looking a little on edge. "N-No. . . not particularly. . . But is it just my thoughts that you see?" Alfred could see the alarm in his green eyes and it made Alfred curious as to why he was so frightened.

His mother seemed to have noticed too and her eyes softened in concern. "Well, mostly yes. Whatever you're thinking of, I can see when I choose to. But with that being said, as long as you're not thinking about it, I can't see it."

"Oh," Arthur sighed, relaxing a little. "Okay then."

Alfred was still worried. "Why are you asking, Arthur?"

"No reason!" he quickly replied. "Just wondering is all." But his rushed tone made Alfred worry all the more. Was Arthur hiding something from him again? This time he doubted it was another birthday present. He was about to press further when his mother interjected.

"Putting that aside, my point in asking was that things aren't as bad as you think they are. With your friendship with Alfred, I mean."

"It's not?"

The Queen smiled. "With all that I've seen today I'm even more certain that you'll accept my terms."

"T-Terms?"

Seeing the panic return to Arthur's face, she quickly said, "Maybe 'terms' isn't exactly the right word." She paused in thought before returning her blue eyes back to Arthur. "I spoke with my husband about all this and we eventually reached an agreement. I'm sure Alfred's told you the reason for his running away, correct?" Arthur nodded and she continued. "Then I'll get straight to the point. How do you feel about taking lessons with Alfred here at the palace?"

It took a full count of five for Arthur to process the words he heard and a whole slew of emotions washed over his face once he did. "I-I'm sorry, I don't think I quite understand."

"It's quite simple, really. You will come to the palace every day and take the lessons Alfred usually takes along with him. Those include learning a variety of academic subjects from qualified tutors, brushing up on music skills, horseback riding lessons, etiquette lessons, sword fighting, and many others," she listed easily. "If you agree to this, the King promises to give Alfred back his title and allow him back into the castle. Furthermore, he will no longer try to break off your friendship."

Alfred was practically jumping on the spot in excitement. "Oh my goodness, Arthur, do you know what that means?! We can spend every day together now! Father won't even bother us!"

Arthur was staring at the ground in front of him with a strange expression that was a mix between mutual excitement and fear. Seeing his hesitation, the Queen walked towards him and knelt until she was eye-level with him. Considering Spades' strict traditions, it was amazing she would even do such a thing, especially to a mere farm boy she had just met. The meaning wasn't lost on Arthur and he looked at her, shocked.

She just smiled sympathetically at him. "You're an intelligent, caring boy, dear Arthur, and I see absolutely nothing wrong with you being friends with Alfred. Rather, I'm very happy he has someone like you for a friend. But the King doesn't see things the same way I do. Which is why I believe that this would a perfect opportunity for not only your friendship to grow, but your individual strength as well. Maybe then the King will see just how lucky Alfred is for having you for a friend. Not to mention. . ." she paused to look seriously into Arthur's eyes, "perhaps you'll even find something that can help you."

Alfred saw the blood drain from Arthur's face. Okay, he was definitely hiding something again. "What do you need help with?"

But his mother stood and continued speaking as if her son hadn't said anything. "But in the end, the choice is yours, Arthur. I could give you more time if you so wish, but. . ."

Another flood of emotions travelled over Arthur's face before his eyes finally steeled with resolve. "I accept."

"Excellent. I'll make the arrangements right away," she said, standing and evidently pleased. "And don't worry about your mother. I'll send her a message personally." She gestured over to her escort standing just out of earshot and he walked over. "Ready my carriage."

"But Your Majesty, aren't you sick?" Arthur fretted. "I-It's okay, you don't have to go yourself. I'll just send an Aerial Message to her."

The Queen waved away his concern. "Don't worry about me, Arthur dear, I can take care of myself. Also I would very much like to meet your mother."

"But-"

"I insist."

Arthur decided not to argue against the Queen.

Arthur and Alfred followed her to the entrance of the garden. As happy as Alfred felt about this plan, he couldn't shake off the uncomfortable feeling of all these unspoken messages he had witnessed. "Um, Mom? Are you sure Father's okay with this? He. . . was really angry with me and I said some pretty bad things."

"Oh darling, don't you worry about your father. You know him. He just gets too wound up in the heat of the moment and he starts to say things he doesn't mean. Just give him some time, alright?" She patted his head. "You too. You both need to think about what happened before you speak to each other again."

Alfred lowered his head. So he wasn't on completely solid ground yet. "Alright," he said dejectedly. Then he remembered that his father hadn't been the only one disappointed in his actions that night. "Oh, and Mom?"

The Queen was just about to step back indoors when her son stopped her. "Yes, darling?"

"I-. . . I just wanted to say sorry."

Both Arthur and the Queen gave him startled looks. "What for?" she asked.

"For disappointing you. At the party. I shouldn't have just ran out so suddenly without an explanation. I mean, I told Yao and everything, but. . . I guess I should've known it wouldn't be enough."

There was a pause before the Queen burst into laughter, louder than before. She giggled for a good minute before she finally settled, wiping away a tear. Then she turned to Arthur. "I suppose this is your doing, Arthur? I guess your influence on Alfred is showing better results than I anticipated."

Arthur quickly shook his head. "N-Not at all! I didn't do anything, really."

"Yeah, why give Arthur all the credit?" Alfred pouted. "What's so weird about me apologizing?"

"Oh, nothing at all! It's just rare for you to take initiative in apologizing for your mistakes."

Alfred huffed even more. "Well there's a first for everything, isn't there?"

The Queen laughed again. "There certainly is."

* * *

When the Queen left with her escort, the boys were alone again. Almost immediately, Alfred turned to Arthur with determined eyes.

"Are you hiding something from me again?" he demanded.

Startled at first, Arthur frowned when he processed Alfred's question. "What? No, of course not." He actually looked offended but Alfred pressed on.

"No, you're definitely hiding something from me."

"And what exactly makes you think that?"

"My mom read something, didn't she? Or saw something, whatever, am I right?" Alfred asked, crossing his arms. "You got really scared the moment I told you she was a Psychic."

It took a second but soon, Arthur's eyes grew wide and his face went pale again. He looked away. "I-It was just your imagination."

Alfred huffed. "It was not! Stop lying."

"I-I'm not lying!"

"You are!"

"I'm not!"

"Then look me in the eyes and say it to my face. Then I'll believe you." Alfred waited for Arthur to argue back but the older boy just pressed his lips into a thin, nervous line and veered his eyes away again. "See?" Alfred pointed out. "Every time you lie you look away like that. I _know_ you, Arthur. What are you hiding?"

Arthur looked extremely uncomfortable for a long period of time. The conflict and fear on his face was clear as day. "Alfred, I-. . . I want to tell you. Really I do. But-. . . I'm just scared you won't want to be my friend anymore after I do," he admitted.

Alfred gaped. "What? Arthur, you're my best friend! Nothing you say will make me not want to be your friend anymore." He hesitated. "Well, unless you say you don't want to be friends anymore. Or that you're secretly Ivan. Or that you're actually a really mean person. Or. . ." Alfred shook his head. "My point is that you won't know until you tell me. I swear I won't be mad or whatever at the thing you don't want to tell me."

Arthur still didn't look too sure, but he smiled anyway at the younger boy's attempts to have him open up. "For the record, it's not any of the things you just listed."

"Oh. Oh, okay good," Alfred grinned.

Arthur shifted around. "You-. . . promise you won't judge me?"

"I promise."

"Promise you won't hate me?"

"Arthur, I could never hate you." He said it so seriously Arthur almost believed him.

Still, Arthur was hesitant. He had been told for so long to hide it; to never tell anyone. "Well. . . I'm not sure exactly how to explain it. . . I-AAH!" Arthur jumped when he felt something brush against his legs and Alfred felt his heart jump into his mouth at the sudden scream. They looked down to see a white and grey cat rubbing against Arthur's leg, purring without a care in the world.

"It's just a cat." Arthur let out a shaky sigh of relief and bent down to pet it. "You gave me quite the scare, you know?" The cat rubbed its head against his touch.

"Oh, hey, it's you!" Alfred said, bending down to pet it as well. "Did you miss me, buddy? Sorry I haven't been around for a while."

Arthur looked over at him. "You know this cat?"

"Yeah, he usually hangs around the gardens. Not sure where he's from but he doesn't have a collar so I never bothered looking for his owner."

"He's cute. Does he have a name?"

Alfred shrugged. "Don't think so."

"Then what do you usually call him?"

"Erm, just the occasional 'buddy' or 'big guy'. Nothing special."

Arthur clicked his tongue in distaste. "Alfred, you can't do that! Every animal needs a name. That means you acknowledge and respect them. How would you like it if someone called you 'big guy' without bothering to ask for your name?"

Alfred made a face.

"Exactly." Arthur then turned his attention back down at the cat. "Hmm, now what to name you?"

"What about. . . Sir Fluffy McGrey?" Alfred suggested.

"Please tell me you're joking."

"I never joke!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and ignored him. "Hmm, what about. . . Marshmallow Cloud?"

"Okay, now please tell me you're joking."

"What's wrong with Marshmallow Cloud?"

"Everything's wrong with it!"

Arthur sniffed. "Well I don't see how you have anything better to suggest."

Alfred was about to retort when the cat let out a long, strangled meow, interrupting the two. It was then the boys noticed the feline was lying on its side with its eyes closed, breathing quite laboriously.

Arthur kneeled to take a closer look, worry etched on his face. "It's in pain," he deduced. He immediately began to look for the source.

"Oh!" Alfred cried, startling the farm boy. Alfred pointed to its leg. "It had a huge gash on its leg the last time I checked."

Arthur looked where Alfred was pointing and indeed, he soon found the nasty cut. It was days old, but Arthur could tell it wasn't healing right. Dried blood matted its fur to its limb and yellow blisters filled with puss lined the cut. "Why didn't you help him sooner?!"

"I was going to take him to our Healer but he hates to be picked up!" Alfred looked at the cat helplessly. "And I didn't want to just leave him alone."

"Then go find the Healer now and I'll stay with him," Arthur said urgently. "Go!"

"Okay, okay!"

Arthur sighed and looked down at the cat as Alfred ran off into the palace. He pet it as reassuringly as he could. _'I mean. . . I could just help it, but. . .'_

Unfortunately, when Alfred returned, he was alone. "The Healer's out of town," he said distressed and out of breath from running around the palace. "What do we do now?! It'll get really bad for him if he's not treated soon."

Arthur worried his bottom lip and stayed silent for a while.

"Arthur!" Alfred pleaded the older boy for some kind of answer.

Finally Arthur let out a groan. "Alright, alright, I'll do it."

"Do what?"

"Heal him."

"You can do that?"

"Alfred, do me a favour and just. . . be quiet for a second."

Curious, Alfred watched as Arthur hovered his hands over the wound. Then Arthur closed his eyes and frowned in concentration. He drew in a deep breath, held it, and Alfred watched in awe as a blue glow began to shine from Arthur's palms.

Right before his very eyes, Alfred watched as the blisters on the cat's wound begin to disappear and the infectious colours melt away. He saw the cat's tense body relax as its injury, slowly but surely, healed under Arthur's touch.

After what seemed like forever, it was finally over. Arthur let out a strangled gasp and the glow faded from his hands. Sweat wetted his forehead and his body sagged like all his energy had just been drained from him. When he opened his eyes, Alfred noticed that they were unfocused with worry and fear.

Alfred let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. "Wow. . ."

Arthur didn't seem to hear him and leaned over the cat. "How is he?" he asked. His voice was strained and tired.

Alfred looked with him and to his amazement, the gash was all but fully healed. The dried blood still clung to the feline's fur, but all that was left of the injury was a fresh, pink scar. There were no signs that anything had been wrong in the first place.

Arthur breathed out a very heavy sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. It worked."

The cat, feeling considerably better, leapt to its feet and rubbed all over Arthur, purring so loud its whole body vibrated. Arthur laughed and pet it. "Glad you're feeling better. But you better not get yourself into any more trouble, you hear?"

The cat gave one meow in reply and vanished into the bushes.

"Arthur, what _was_ that?!"

Arthur winced at how loud Alfred had exclaimed and turned to the gaping prince with uncertainty. He tried for an explanation. "I, uh. . . have healing powers?"

"What, that's awesome! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Alfred remembered Arthur's mother telling him the other day that Arthur had powers, but he never thought it would be something so rare. Guess rare powers ran in the family.

Arthur looked at his hands. "It's nothing really special," he mumbled.

"Nothing special? Are you kidding me?! Arthur, don't you know how rare Healers are nowadays?"

Arthur weakly smiled. "I know."

"Then of course it's special! That's amazing, Arthur! _You're_ amazing!" Alfred grinned.

"Yeah. . . amazing."

Alfred frowned at Arthur's lack of excitement. "Was this the secret you didn't want to tell me earlier?"

Arthur stood. ". . . Kind of."

"So there's more?" Alfred trailed after the older boy who began to wander back into the depths of the garden.

Arthur didn't say anything until they reached the willow tree they were at before. It was when they sat down did Arthur finally begin to speak. "You can't tell anyone about this, okay?" He looked at Alfred seriously.

Alfred nodded eagerly.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Arthur sighed and looked at his hands resting on his lap. "Alright, I'll tell you. It's just that. . . there's something weird about my powers. They don't always work. . ." he thought of the right word to use, "properly."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean something terrible happens if I don't use them right. Something goes horribly wrong."

"Like?"

Arthur stuffed his hand between his legs, as if it could stifle the negativity of his powers. He spoke so softly Alfred had to lean in to hear. Arthur chewed his bottom lip nervously. "Sometimes I end up killing the things I want to heal."

Alfred let the reality of Arthur's words sink in. ". . . Oh."

"Yeah. . ."

"But. . . you healed the cat just fine."

"I guess," Arthur said uncertainly. "But that was just an exception, I think."

"Maybe you just need practice?"

Arthur didn't look too sure. "I've been practicing to hide my powers. Not use them. Sometimes when I lose control of my emotions, the things around me start to die." He looked around nervously, as if searching for proof. "So I try not to use my healing powers as much as I can or else the other things can happen."

"But you won't know until you try, right? I mean-"

"No, Alfred. I mean I've seen it happen before." Arthur looked even more distraught; frustrated even as he admitted it. "It's happened before," he repeated. "I've killed something before."

"Oh. . . So, what Mom said about you finding something to help you. . ."

"I'm trying to find a way to get rid of this power."

"Right."

For once, Alfred couldn't find anything to say. Alfred wasn't judging him. And learning Arthur's secret definitely didn't make him hate him. But Alfred couldn't explain the cold sensation that washed over him.

He wasn't scared, was he? Of Arthur? His best friend? A second cold wave washed over him when he realized that he was.

He looked at the older boy he adored. Right now, he looked nothing like the Arthur he knew. The Arthur he knew was stubborn and sarcastic. His Arthur would scold him for the littlest of things. Arthur's green eyes were always sparkling and attentive and his tongue was always sharp and intelligent.

But this Arthur that sat in front of him was wide open and vulnerable. If Alfred saw him for the first time today, he would've thought Arthur was younger than him rather than 2 years older. This Arthur looked small and scared.

But Alfred realized that seeing Arthur like this only made him adore him all the more. Sure, he was scared of Arthur's power, but he wasn't scared of Arthur. The cold that Alfred felt was suddenly swallowed up by an overwhelming sense of protectiveness and loyalty.

Arthur gave a wry laugh after seeing Alfred's lack of response. "I'm weird, aren't I? See? I told you that you wouldn't want to be friends with me anym-," He cut himself off when Alfred harshly grabbed his hands. Arthur saw the fire behind Alfred's blue eyes and it startled him.

Alfred squeezed Arthur's hands in his. "You're not weird. You're just different. And there's nothing wrong with that. So you're super powerful! I think that's really cool! Sure you're powers are a little dangerous but-"

"A little? Alfred, I could kill you."

"So could your death glares but those don't do anything." Arthur opened his mouth to retort but Alfred shushed him. "But that's beside the point." Alfred intertwined his fingers with Arthur's and stared straight into his eyes – those green, green eyes. He could feel his heart beating loudly in his ears. "I trust you, Arthur."

"You shouldn't. Not with this."

"You would never hurt me."

Arthur sounded pained. "You don't know that, Alfred. I don't even know that."

Alfred shook his head. "But I do! Because you're my best friend, Arthur. And as long as we're friends, I know that you would never hurt me."

* * *

In the living room of Arthur's house, the Queen of Spades clenched her hands on her lap. "So you're telling me I've just helped my son closer to his death?"

Arthur's mother looked just as conflicted. "Nothing causes these things, Your Majesty," she said softly. "Fate decides them and there's nothing we can do to stop them from happening. I certainly never asked for Arthur to have this curse."

"So there's absolutely nothing we can do to prevent it?"

"I'm afraid not."

The Queen searched the woman's green eyes but found no lies in her thoughts. Only experience and memories of helplessness.

"Do you regret it?" the Seer asked.

The Queen thought about her answer for a long time and eventually sighed. "No, I don't suppose I do."

"But. . ."

"But I can't help but think that I've made the outcome worse. I mean, it's one thing to be killed. But to be killed by the person closest to you. . . well. . ." the Queen gave a wry smile. "I can't help but regret it just a little."

* * *

**I have a question for you all. Do you prefer that I write little side stories of how Arthur and Alfred grow closer to each other or just time skip? If I do time skip, it'll be by a few years so I'm hesitating. . .**

**Let me know in a review what you want to read. I'm okay with either.**

**(I'm also trying to figure out if I should write a happy or sad ending but that's a later decision to make.)**

**. . .**

**Happy New Year from Canada!**

**I wanted this chapter up by Christmas because holy hell it's been so long, but alas, Christmas dinners and family stuff took up most of my time. And school, exams, and work took up my time before that. **

**But I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Again, let me know if you find any mistakes and I'll fix them right up.**

**See you in the next chapter! Thank you again for all your support!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Arthur heard the gentle chime of midnight come from the clock out in the hall and he let out a heavy sigh. Frustrated, he turned again in his bed to face the high ceiling of the guest bedroom he was staying in.

'_This is stupid,' _Arthur huffed. _'It shouldn't be this hard to fall asleep.'_ He shuffled around some more, trying to get more comfortable, but nothing felt right. He turned his eyes to the door, mentally debating before forcibly turning himself away at the last second. _'Arthur Kirkland, get a hold of yourself! You can sleep perfectly well on your own,' _he mentally scolded himself. No way was he going to Alfred's room again!

Right then, Arthur heard the doorknob turn and he quickly shut his eyes closed to feign sleep. He heard the door hesitantly open, then close, and soft footsteps approached his bed. When the footsteps stopped, Arthur strained his ears to pinpoint where the intruder was and counted the seconds as they passed, hoping that whoever it was in his room, they would leave soon and meant no harm.

But by the time Arthur counted to a hundred, he could still feel that he was being watched and his curiosity got the better of him. He carefully peeked open an eye. . .

Only to find Alfred's blue ones staring right back at him.

Letting out a yelp of surprise, Arthur abruptly sat up, bashing their foreheads together. The two boys recoiled from each other with hisses of pain.

Alfred had fallen on his butt and got up with a whine, his hands rubbing his injured forehead. "What was that for, Arthur?"

"I could ask the same to you," Arthur grumbled, feeling a small lump beginning to form on his own forehead. "Why didn't you say anything if you came in? And why were you staring so closely at my face?"

"Well _sor-ry_. It's dark so I can't see well."

"And what exactly did you need to see?"

"Whether or not you were asleep! I didn't want to wake you up if were sleeping already."

Arthur pressed his lips together. "It took you that long to figure it out?" But he didn't wait for an answer. "Whatever," he shook his head to change the subject. "What are you doing here anyway? Why are you still awake?"

Alfred climbed onto the bed. "I was worried about you!" he said as he sat back on his feet.

Arthur blinked, confused. "About me?"

"Yeah! I had a feeling you were still having trouble falling asleep on your own so I wanted to come and check up on you."

"I-I'm perfectly capable of falling asleep on my own, thank you very much," Arthur sputtered.

"Oh really?" Alfred raised an amused eyebrow. "That's not what it looks like."

"I-It's all your fault! I was just about to fall asleep when you came in."

Alfred didn't believe a word of it. "You don't frown in your sleep."

"And how do you know what I look like when I sleep?"

"'Cause you always fall asleep before I do!" Alfred huffed and crossed his arms. "You've been sleeping over at my room ever since you got here, so why didn't you come tonight? I was waiting for you!"

Arthur tried to ignore to stabs of guilt he felt hearing that. "W-Well I just wanted to see if I could fall asleep on my own, that's all. I thought I'd get used to sleeping here by now since it's been a week already."

"Is it working?"

Arthur pressed his lips together. ". . . No."

"Then that settles it!" Alfred climbed closer and lifted Arthur's covers to try to get under them.

Arthur squawked and tried to push them back down. "W-What do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, trying to tug the blankets away from Alfred.

"Sleeping over, of course. What else would I be doing? Now move over, I need a pillow."

Arthur held on tight. "Alfred, go back to your room! What's going to happen when the maids find your bed empty in the morning?! They're going to think you were kidnapped or something!"

"Don't worry, they'll know I'm here."

"And how do you know that?!"

"The maids know me well enough, Arthur. Stop being such a worry-wart!" They continued to play tug-of-war with the blankets. "If you've slept over every night since you've been here and they see that neither of us are in my room, the first place they're going to check before panicking is here. Now stop fighting, do you want me to sleep over or not?"

"No!"

Alfred let go of the blankets with a hurt expression. "Why not?!"

"I just thought it'd be better if I slept alone."

"Why?" Alfred demanded.

Arthur looked down at his hands. "Because I. . . didn't want to keep bothering you. And for goodness sake, Alfred, I'm too old to need someone to fall asleep!"

Alfred looked as if he had heard the most ridiculous thing in his life. "Who ever said that?"

"The other kids in the village."

"Well who cares what they think? You're never too old to sleep with someone. Why do you think adults sleep together in the same bed?"

Arthur looked uncertain, but Alfred had a point. "I. . . guess that's true. Adults do sleep with each other too." He glanced up at his friend. "But don't I bother you? You said I almost pushed you out of the bed the other day."

"Aw that was just one time, Arthur, I didn't really mean anything by complaining." When Arthur gave him another doubtful look, Alfred sighed and inched closer, taking Arthur's hands in his. "You don't bother me at all, really! Actually, you sleeping over makes me really happy!"

"R-Really?"

"Yeah! Doesn't it make you happy?"

It took a second of hesitation but Arthur eventually relaxed into a timid smile. "Yeah, it makes me happy too."

Seemingly content by the answer, Alfred smiled and gave a nod. "To be honest, I get lonely sleeping by myself. That's why I used to sleep in my mom's bed. But after she got sick, I couldn't do it anymore. So when you stayed over, it made me really happy! But when you didn't show up tonight. . ."

Arthur swallowed and looked down at their intertwined hands. The guilt wouldn't allow him to relish the warmth of Alfred's care so Arthur slipped his hands out and stuffed them back under the blankets. After a moment of hesitation he asked, "You sure the maids won't panic?"

"Well if you're that worried we can head back to my room."

Arthur grimaced. Alfred's room was on the complete opposite side of the palace and going through the dark halls at this time of night was the last thing he wanted to do. He was surprised Alfred managed to do so without a candle. But then again, this maze-like palace was his home.

So Arthur sighed and made a noise of surrender at the back of his throat. "Fine. . . you can sleep here tonight."

Alfred let out a delighted squeal. It took less than a second for the Prince to throw up the covers and scramble under them. "Yay! Thank you, thank you, Arthur!" He squirmed closer to the older boy in giddy, jerky movements, purposely pushing his cold toes onto Arthur's warm feet.

"You idiot, stop shoving or you'll be pushing _me _off the bed! And oi! Watch your cold feet!" Arthur complained. But Alfred was too busy giggling to care. And in all honesty, Arthur didn't really care either. He was just trying to hide the giddy grin that threatened to stretch across his face.

After all, this was the result he wanted whether he knew it himself or not.

"For the record," Arthur said as they settled in, "I'm only doing this because I feel sorry for you."

Alfred grinned. "Sure you are, Artie."

Arthur made an annoyed '_tsk' _at the response. "I'm serious! And I told you not to call me that." The Prince had somehow managed to pick up an absurd habit of calling him by this new nickname, much to Arthur's chagrin.

But Alfred only giggled some more, unaffected. "I think it suits you."

Arthur only answered with a grunt of disagreement and let the subject drop.

The two boys lay together in silence for several minutes, just staring up at the high ceiling and enjoying the comfort of having a familiar person beside them. The air, warm and slightly sweet from summer, swept in from the half-open window. Through the curtains leaked the moonlight.

Then Alfred let out a sad sigh, breaking the silence. "Too bad it's the last day you'll be staying over."

Arthur gave him a sidelong glance. "Alfred, I've been living here for a week now. I'm surprised you're not sick of me yet."

Alfred huffed, unamused. "Don't say that. I keep telling you I could never get sick of you! I wish you could live here forever."

Arthur had said it half-jokingly but Alfred's honesty and taking things too literally during times like these never failed to warm his heart. "It was your mom's idea for me to stay over for a week to get used to things," he reminded the Prince. "And I'm pretty used to your schedule already. It would be rude of me to stay any longer."

"But I'm sure if we asked for permission, you could stay longer." Alfred was insisting.

"I guess, but. . . I don't want to leave my mom alone for so long," said sadly. "There's still a lot to do at home even though the summer harvest is over already and I know she can't do it by herself." From the corner of his eyes, Arthur saw Alfred make a face so he attempted to reassure him, feeling quite fond of these reactions. "Look on the bright side, I'll still be coming back every day for lessons. I'll just be going home for the night, that's all."

"But sleeping over's always the fun part!" Alfred whined, turning to face Arthur and snuggling his head into Arthur's shoulder. "It's the only time we can share secrets and tell each other stories and stuff."

"We can do that during the day time too," Arthur pointed out.

"It's not the same," Alfred whined some more, unsatisfied.

Arthur reached a hand over to pat Alfred's head, feeling the need to keep reassuring the Prince and his childish pleas. He thought it odd how Alfred could be so immature at times yet act three times his age when the occasion calls for it. Arthur had witnessed these transformations first-hand and never really under pleasant circumstances. The steely, cool gazes; the calm and collected formal speech; the poise and posture – all from being born of nobility. And being born of Spades, no less. Any expressions other than Alfred's sunny smile were unfamiliar to Arthur, and despite seeing more of them during his stay at the palace, they never failed to unnerve him.

Arthur gently stroked through Alfred's hair, playing with the golden strands. "There, there, we'll do our best for now, alright? And I'll sleep over whenever it's not as busy back home, sound good?"

Alfred shifted his head to look up at Arthur with puppy-eyes. "You promise?"

"I promise."

"_Pinky_ promise?" Alfred lifted his hand out of the covers towards the older boy.

Arthur breathed out a laugh. "Is there no end to your silly antics?" he mused.

Alfred blinked. "What's an antic?"

"Ah, nevermind." Arthur took Alfred's pinky with his own. "I pinky promise."

Alfred grinned and opened his mouth to add something but he got interrupted by a giant yawn. Seeing how the fatigue was catching up to the Prince, and admittedly to himself as well, Arthur adjusted their blankets and let out a yawn of his own. "Come on now, let's sleep. We can talk more in the morning."

Still half-yawning, Alfred grumbled in complaint, words already slurring. "But you're leaving tomorrow. I wanna talk more."

"I'm leaving after lessons are over and that's not until dinner. We have time, Alfred, stop fretting."

"But-"

"Sleep, Alfred."

"But I-"

"We can talk tomorrow."

Alfred whined some more and it wasn't until Arthur told him he was tired that he finally relented. "Fine," he mumbled, finally closing his eyes. "We'll talk tomorrow." Relaxing with a small smile, Alfred snuggled into Arthur's arm.

Arthur yawned and shifted on his back to get more comfortable. Just as he was about to nod off, he heard Alfred sleepily call out to him in the dark.

"Hey. . . Artie?"

Arthur opened his eyes.

"I forgot something," Alfred mumbled, half-asleep.

"What, toilet?"

"No, I forgot to say goodnight."

Sighing, Arthur closed his eyes. "Is that all?"

"It's important," the Prince insisted.

"Alright, alright. I get it. Goodnight, Alfred."

"Hehe. Goodnight," Alfred replied contently, settling back in.

. . .

"Hey, Arthur?"

"What now?"

"I'll miss you when you leave. . ."

Surprised, Arthur looked over at the boy but Alfred had already fallen asleep, clearly too tired to even wait for a reply. His cheek was squished against Arthur's shoulder and his half-open mouth breathed out soft streams of snores.

Arthur snorted a laugh at the silly expression and felt his heart melt into a warm puddle of happiness."I'll miss you too, Alfred," he replied, fully aware the other wouldn't be able to hear. "I'll miss you more than you know."

* * *

**Short chapter, I know. Disappointing after such a long wait. I'm sorry!**

**Originally, there was more after this but it was dragging on ridiculously long and it didn't quite match with the mood I set at the beginning…so I decided to post this without the long stream of plot after.**

**But fret not! The rest should come fairly soon. That's when we get right back down to business. Enjoy the fluff!**

**While you can.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Arthur hadn't bothered to ask. Rather, he hadn't found a reason to ask. But when Alfred accidently let it slip that he still hadn't talked to his father in over two months, Arthur realized how stupid it was of him to assume that the tension between the two family members had been resolved.

Alfred winced at the horrified expression that bloomed across Arthur's face and resisted the urge to run. "Y-You can't blame me, Arthur, I-"

"Alfred!" Arthur exploded. "Two months?!"

The Prince shrunk back. "It's not my fault," he argued feebly. "He's always away for business for days at a time! I don't even get a _chance_ to talk to him."

"So it's his fault for doing his job?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Alfred, did you even try?!"

"Y-Yes-?"

"Don't lie, Alfred," Arthur scoffed, cutting him off. He clearly wasn't having it. "I come here every day so I know very well when your father returns from his travels and for how long he stays." He narrowed his eyes. "And now that I think about it, you've done all that you could to avoid him recently, haven't you?"

Alfred said nothing and sat there with a guilty expression planted on his face, stirring up Arthur's irritation even more. Grumbling to himself, Arthur leaned over on his chair to pick up the book that fell from his hands during his shocking realization. Dusting off the cover, he put it to the side before facing Alfred again, reminding himself that he was the older one in this friendship of theirs and thus, needed to be the voice of reason whenever Alfred's childish behaviour acts up.

Seeing Arthur's intent look, Alfred sank into his chair and let out a whine. "I know, I know. Stop looking at me like that, I _know_!"

"If you know then why don't you go and talk to him already?"

"Because the last time I talked to him, he disowned me, in case you forgot."

"That's only because you didn't take responsibility for leaving so suddenly. . . which I'll admit is partially my fault as well, but still."

Alfred grunted. "No, it's not your fault. I just-. . . it's so hard to talk to him!"

"Isn't it just because you two are too busy yelling at each other?"

"No! Well-. . . sometimes. But even without yelling, we can never have one conversation without him pointing out all my flaws and I'm just sick of it."

"Have you told him that?"

"I have! Arthur, seriously, I've done everything I could. I've went from taking it to talking back to reasoning with him. But he just doesn't listen! And all because I can't be 'perfect Prince' that he wants me to be." He spat out the last sentence with bitterness.

Arthur sat there silently for a while, contemplating what to say. In all honesty, he had no idea what to do either. He had never experienced this kind of family trouble before and he didn't know the King personally, so Arthur was mostly at a loss. All he knew was that this dispute between the two needed to stop because this was just getting ridiculous.

Arthur chewed the inside of his cheek. "I know it's not easy, but in the end, he's still your father."

"Not according to him, I'm not," Alfred huffed.

"But you agreed to his terms, remember? As long as I'm here studying with you, you get your title back again. So technically he's already taken you back – as a Prince and as a son."

"I let him take me back," Alfred stubbornly corrected.

Arthur rolled his eyes at the other's insistency. "Alright, fine. Whatever. I doubt he really meant it in the first place, but still, you have yet to talk to him and thank him for allowing me to stay."

"It was really my mom that came up with the conditions," Alfred pointed out. "And we're just lucky he always listens to her. She's the only one he listens to."

A little irritated that Alfred keeps refuting him, Arthur smacked him on the arm.

"Ow!"

"You're missing the point. What I'm saying is that you need to keep trying."

"I already did!"

"And all it takes is one failure for you to give up? Alfred, I know you're better than that."

"But. . ." Alfred let himself drift off, unable to come up with a good reason to keep avoiding the issue.

Seeing how the hesitation wasn't going to go away any time soon, Arthur decided it was time to take matters into his own hands. If not for Alfred's sake then for his own peace of mind. "Fine, when your father comes back from his trip, I'll come with you to talk to him."

"What?! No! You _know_ what my father thinks about you."

Arthur sighed. "I do, but if it makes you feel better with talking to him. . ."

"But Arthur-"

"Unless you're willing to talk to your father all on your own. . ."

"No!" Alfred blurted. It's true he didn't want to go alone but that didn't mean Arthur coming with him was a better alternative.

"Well one way or another, I'm getting you to talk to your father the minute he gets back. You're allowed to be an idiot but I won't let my best friend be a coward." Arthur was determined to get this problem solved. If going with him was the only way to motivate Alfred into talking to the King then so be it.

* * *

But first, Yao's opinion.

The King's return was announced after three short weeks – at least, it felt short in Alfred's opinion – and the moment Arthur heard about it, he wasted no time finding Yao. Dragging the unwilling Prince by the hand, Arthur went straight to front gates where he knew the Jack would be directing the servants to unpack. Spotting Yao at the bottom of the stairs, he hurried down.

Alfred tried to struggle out of Arthur's iron grip. "Arthur, lemme go! I can walk by myself!"

"Oh, I know you can," Arthur said, tightening his grip. "But considering how you ran away from me the first time I let go, I'm not falling for it again. Now stop struggling before we both fall down the stairs."

Since Yao was occupied with directing the servants to their tasks, Arthur and Alfred waited at the side until the Jack became available. Even though Alfred had long given up running away, Arthur was insistent on keeping a good hold on him until Yao was done. So when the Jack finally turned his attention to the boys, an amused expression formed on his face seeing the pout he knew all too well on the Prince's face.

"Hello, boys. Bonding, are we?"

Alfred puffed out a breath, huffy. "More like bullying."

"I'm doing this for your own good," Arthur bit back before turning to the Jack. Bowing slightly at the waist, he formally greeted Yao like always. "Welcome back, Mr. Wang. I'm glad to see you've returned safely."

"Nice to see you again, Arthur," Yao nodded in acknowledgement, smiling. "Have you been keeping Alfred in check while I was away?"

"What do you think he's doing right now?" Alfred grumbled, lifting their conjoined hands.

Thinking Alfred was sick of his hand being held, Arthur let go, feeling somewhat hurt. He didn't realize that Alfred was annoyed for a completely different reason.

Putting that aside, Arthur turned to the Jack and explained the situation. "Two months, Mr. Wang. Two whole months! Don't you think that's a tad much for an argument?"

Alfred hoped that Yao would dismiss the matter as one of their childish jokes, but to his chagrin, it looked like the Jack was seriously considering the possibilities. But just because Yao was considering it, it didn't mean he was completely confident about it. "Arthur, I understand your reasoning. As Jack of Spades and as a family friend I sincerely thank you for your concern. However, and I'm sorry if I offend you," he sighed, "but your involvement would only be seen as meddling."

Seeing Arthur visibly wilt, Yao gently used a hand to guide the boy into walking beside him around the castle grounds where it offered more privacy. Alfred dutifully followed beside them.

"The Spades family was always a private one," Yao explained. "Whatever happens in the family stays within the family. The King especially values reputation and appearances more than anything. So this conflict being held between Alfred and him wouldn't be something an outsider could easily solve. The worse thing to do would be for you to intervene. And I'm afraid the King already disapproves of your person enough as it is."

Arthur worried his bottom lip, the reality of the Jack's words digging a pit in his stomach. "I understand, but. . ." He didn't want to relent. But there were no lies in the Jack's words and that's what hurt the most. Was he being too confident? "I mean, I don't have to go," Arthur said. "I just want Alfred to talk to his father already. I just said I'd go with him so that he'd be more motivated to go by himself. Because he knows it wouldn't be a good idea for me to see his father."

Seeing the dilemma, Yao turned to the Prince. "Well, Alfred? Would you be willing to go talk to your father on your own?"

Alfred fidgeted. "I would rather have Arthur with me. . . but I don't want Father to get mad at him. You know of the mean things he's said about Arthur," he reasoned with Yao. "I don't want him to say it to Arthur's face."

"I understand, Alfred, which is why I'm explaining to Arthur the exact risks you're worried about."

Seeing how much Alfred was genuinely worried for his sake, Arthur turned to reassure him. "Alfred, I don't really care what happens to me as long as you and father make up. So if you want me to go, I'll come with you."

"Are you sure?" he asked. Arthur nodded and Alfred smiled gratefully. "You'd do that for me?"

Arthur flushed and hid behind a huff. "I-If it means you'll finally get this silly argument of yours solved, then of course."

Yao smiled. "Well there you go. Problem solved. Looks like Arthur's willing despite the risks. But Arthur, are you absolutely sure? I don't want to scare you but I want you to understand exactly what you're getting yourself into."

Arthur turned to the Jack. "I know I'm just an outsider, Mr. Wang. Not to mention a commoner that the King doesn't like. If I see the King now he might dislike me even more. But as Alfred's best friend I can't just watch from the side forever. I don't really care what happens to me. I just want Alfred to make up with his father already. And no matter what, I want to be there to support him."

Yao glanced over at Alfred for some kind of sign of mutual agreement, but Alfred was too busy looking at Arthur. The expression on his face was unlike Yao had ever seen and it made the Jack soften at the sight. Alfred didn't have his usual, blatantly obvious smile plastered on his face, but a gentle mixture of happiness and pure gratitude melted in his expression. That rare delicacy of emotions was enough for the Jack to relent.

"As long as you're sure, I'll let the King know you wish to talk to him," he said. "And I'll be sure to pick a time when he's not in a huffy mood too."

"Thank you, Mr. Wang."

"Oh, don't thank me yet," Yao shook his head. "I want Alfred and the King to reconcile just as much as you do, but what I said before still stands true." Sighing, he looked to the castle. "Let's just hope this all ends well. If not, you two won't be the only ones in trouble."

* * *

"Enter."

Alfred got a very strong sense of déjà vu when he heard his father's voice through the closed doors of the King's study. Then again this happened every time he stood in front of those heavy doors. Quite frankly, Alfred was getting sick of it; sick of feeling so scared every time.

Arthur turned to him. "Ready?"

Alfred pressed his lips together. "No. But let's get this over with already." He opened the door and entered, Arthur following close behind.

As usual, Alfred made his greeting. But when he stood up straight again, he could feel his annoyance flare at the sight of his father still looking down at his paperwork, not bothering to look up as usual. Alfred's irritancy must have showed on his face because he felt Arthur gently touch his arm in warning. After a quick, silent exchange, Alfred nodded and slowly exhaled to calm himself down. "Thank you for allowing me time to speak with you," Alfred said flatly, feigning gratitude.

The King made a grunt of acknowledgement and flipped the page he was looking at. "For you to request to speak to me is rare enough, and for you to ask so quickly upon my return means it must be fairly important."

"It is important."

"Hm, I'll be the judge of that. So? What is it exactly? As you can see I'm busy so don't take too long."

Arthur was appalled by the King's indifferent attitude but Alfred continued like it was normal – which to him, it was. "I. . . just wanted to say thank you for letting Arthur come to the palace to study with me. I didn't properly thank you last time when it happened so. . . I just wanted to say it now."

"Is that all?"

Both boys winced at the tone and Alfred knew what his father wanted. So he swallowed his pride and spoke. "And I want to apologize for my actions that night. I'll personally apologize to Ivan the next time I see him and will send out letters to the other guests. I. . . I know it's a little late but I will take full responsibility for what happened."

The King lifted his head, face expressionless. The shadows emphasized the stress lines on his face and it startled Alfred how quickly his father seemed to have aged in the past two months that he hadn't seen him. But no matter how tired the King was, it didn't seem to affect his stubbornness.

"Good," he replied curtly, as if he had been expecting it. "Now tell me, why is _he_ here?"

Alfred tensed at the pointed question, a little thrown off at the complete change of topic. He knew immediately that his father meant Arthur and the fear came back to him full blown. "He's with me," he replied cautiously.

The King sighed and went back to writing his papers. "That doesn't answer my question, Alfred. I asked _why_ is he here?"

"Well why not?" Alfred bit out through clenched teeth. He knew exactly where his father was going with this and he didn't like it one bit. And it was going so well. . .

"I was told it was the Prince of Spades who wanted to speak to me, not some unannounced commoner. So tell me again, Alfred, why is he here?"

Alfred was about to explode when Arthur suddenly kneeled behind him. "Permission to speak, Your Majesty!" he said loudly.

Alfred looked at him in horror. "Arthur, what are you-"

"Oh? So the commoner knows his place? How refreshing," the King huffed bitterly, putting down his pen. Although his words were harsh, it was almost as if he was directing his insults at someone else.

"Father!" Alfred gasped. The King ignored his son's horrified looks and scrutinized the boy kneeling before him.

"Speak."

Arthur swallowed and prayed that his voice wouldn't give away just how terrified he was. He had spoken out of desperation that the conversation between Alfred and his father wouldn't get any worse, but now he was frantically trying to figure out what to say. "If Your Majesty would allow, I would prefer if I justified why I'm here myself." When the King said nothing, Arthur took that as a sign that he could continue. "The main reason why I'm here is also to express my gratitude for Your Majesty allowing me to study alongside Alfred."

"You call my son by name?"

"I gave him permission," Alfred interjected lowly. "Or does my opinion count for nothing anymore?"

The King gave him a quick, cold glare before returning his attention back to Arthur. "Continue."

Feeling his throat start to constrict, Arthur forced himself to breathe. "The other reason why I'm here is to share the blame for what happened that night on Alfred's birthday. If someone is to be punished, it should be me. I was the one who lured Alfred away from his duties."

"That's not true!" Alfred blurted out. He looked at his father desperately. "It was my fault for pushing him to take me away. Arthur has nothing to do with it!"

Arthur quickly continued. "Your Majesty, please ignore him. He's too kind-hearted for his own good."

The King raised a hand to stop the stream of protests. "Enough," he sighed, frowning with his eyes closed as if he had an incoming headache. "What is your name, boy?"

"Arthur Kirkland, Your Majesty."

"I will admit it's very noble of you to admit your role in what happened that night but what right do you have to tell me whether or not to punish my son?" he asked.

". . . None, sir."

"Correct. And is it wrong to say Alfred had absolutely no fault in relenting to your persuasion?"

"No, sir."

"Exactly. I have no reason to regret the punishment I rightfully gave and you have absolutely no right to ask me to reconsider. What's more is that Alfred has already admitted that he was in the wrong and is willing to take responsibility." He waved a dismissive hand, voice growing more irritated as he continued. "You have no right or reason to bring this subject back up. Truth be told, this could have been settled long ago if it weren't for Alfred's stubbornness. But whatever the case, it is now finished and lessons have been learnt. If you truly feel guilty than I suggest you never bring this topic back up again. I don't want to hear it from anyone, let alone from someone like you. So although I understand your good intentions, you are not part of this family and have absolutely no business in our matters, do I make myself clear?"

But before Arthur could say anything, Alfred made sure to voice his own opinion on the matter. He was enraged that his father talked to Arthur like that! Of course, he knew this was coming but still, Alfred wouldn't stand for it.

"_I_ want to make something clear, _Your Majesty_," Alfred said, using his father's title mockingly, "if it weren't for Arthur I wouldn't even bother coming to talk to you today. It's because of Arthur that I even apologized to you. But what about you? Have you said sorry to me yet? No – I don't think you were even planning to."

"I don't believe I have any reason to."

"Is that what Mom said too?" Alfred challenged. When his father failed to respond, Alfred knew he had won. "Why can't you just say one simple sorry?"

Shifting, the King looked mildly offended. "I will not do so in the presence of others, Alfred, you know that."

Alfred crossed his arms. "I do know. But that doesn't mean I understand. Is a king not supposed to take responsibility for his mistakes?"

"Don't turn my words against me," the King warned.

"But you know I'm right."

"I will admit nothing."

Alfred let out an exasperated sigh. "See, this is why I didn't want to be Prince: so I wouldn't become a King like you. But then I decided that I _will_ keep my title as Prince of Spades. I should! Not because you want me to, but because then I can grow up to be a better King than you ever were." Alfred turned to Arthur and tugged for him to stand. "And it's because of Arthur that I changed my mind so you better appreciate him more!"

Seeing how his father wasn't able to respond, Alfred nodded decisively. "Well, I've made my point and have said everything that needed to be said. So if you would excuse us," he bowed, "we have work to do. C'mon, Arthur."

"O-Okay." The wide-eyed farm boy quickly bowed at the King and let Alfred drag him out the door.

The King didn't bother stopping them.

As they jogged down the hallway, Alfred began to giggle uncontrollably. To Arthur's utter shock, Alfred turned to him with a huge grin on his face. "Oh man, did you see the look on his face?!" he laughed victoriously. "I've never seen him that shocked before!"

Arthur relaxed into a sigh. "That's because you used your head for once instead of your temper and managed to out-reason him." Smiling, Arthur poked a finger at Alfred's forehead. "See how things work out better when you're calm and collected?"

Giggling, Alfred skipped down the empty hallway. "I just can't believe you just jumped in like that! Weren't you scared?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Of course I was scared! That was my first time meeting the King, for goodness sake," he huffed. "But I was more scared that you were going to lose your temper because that would've only made matters worse."

"But weren't you mad at the things he was saying about you? Ugh, I just _knew _he was going to bring it up."

"Aw now, don't fret. I think I was more hurt than mad," Arthur admitted. "What he said weren't exactly lies. Yao already warned me and you've told me about the things the King's said about me before."

"You might not be mad, but I am! What kind of King looks down on people like that?"

Arthur smiled. "That just means you're already on the way to becoming a better one. Besides, I didn't even have to say anything to defend myself before you had to go and be a hero and interrupt," he teased.

Alfred prodded his chest out proudly. "I did a good job, didn't I?"

"Don't get too cocky," Arthur smirked, ruffling the boy's hair. "But yes, you did a pretty good job."

Laughing, Alfred side-hugged him, almost toppling Arthur over in surprise. "Don't worry, Arthur, I'll always be your hero!"

"Stop being an idiot first," he snorted. "_Then_ you can be my hero."

"Well even if I'm an idiot, I'm _your_ idiot."

"Pft, okay whatever you say," Arthur replied, unconvinced.

"I'm serious! If you never need me, just let me know and I'll be there! That's what best friends are for, right?"

Arthur regarded him seriously for a second before letting out a small laugh. "I guess you're right," he said, cheeks turning pink.

"We're best friends," Alfred stated as-a-matter-of-factly. "So basically, we're each other's heroes!"

Arthur rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "Only you would come up with something like that."

It was as if the whole world had finally lifted off their shoulders.

* * *

"So? How did it go?" Yao asked as he entered the King's study, requested documents in hand.

The King glanced up from his fort of paperwork. "Don't think I didn't know what you were trying to do."

Yao placed the books and scrolls on the desk wearing an innocent look. "And what exactly was I trying to do?"

Sighing and sitting back into his chair, the King pinched the inner corner of his eyes, trying to get them to relax. Maybe it was time to get some reading glasses. "You purposely left out that the fact that that boy was going to be present with Alfred and you knew how tired I was. Were you trying to get a reaction out of me?"

Unfazed, Yao began to tidy up their surroundings, gathering some discarded books to get them re-shelved. "I was well aware I was making quite the gamble, what, with your awful temper and all. But either way I had a feeling it would go well."

"And why's that?"

"Because when you're tired, you don't have enough energy to yell. And when you don't yell, you're able to hear a lot more of what's being said."

The King quirked up both eyebrows. "Why do I get the feeling you're insulting me?"

"Because I am," Yao answered smoothly, putting a book back in its place. "But only because I can." The Jack went about his business in silence while the King sat in thought. After a minute, the King spoke again and it was exactly what Yao was hoping it to be.

"Alfred's changed."

Yao nodded. "So you noticed."

"Is it because of that boy?"

"Indeed."

". . . Hm."

Yao gave him a side-long glance. "His grades have also improved enormously."

"So I heard."

"Any regrets?"

The King sighed heavily. "Why does this kid have to be a commoner? Out of all the people he befriends, it's a peasant."

Yao tsk-ed. He respected the King to no end but if it was one thing that disappointed him (and several others) it was his prejudice against the poor. No matter what he or the Queen ever said to persuade the King into thinking otherwise, this nasty habit of his failed to go away. "Still not letting that one go?"

"I just can't," the King grumbled. "Especially with our economy going down the drain, we need more financially stable allies. Alfred, being young, has so much potential yet he's throwing it away just for this one kid. Going so far as to call him a best friend - the simpleton."

"You never know what good may come from it," chided Yao. "After all, was the Queen not of poor birth herself?"

"But her circumstances were different. She was lucky enough to be adopted by nobles."

"And can we not consider Arthur to be lucky enough to befriend Alfred?"

"That changes nothing of his public status."

Yao shrugged. "As King, you can do whatever you want. Give him a suitable title if you so choose to. But it's your attitude towards him that remains to be the root of the problem."

Moaning, the King rubbed at his face with his hands. "I don't need to hear this from you, Yao, I already get enough from the Queen. I don't need it from my Jack as well."

"We only repeat it because you don't change."

The King only grunted in response.

"Oh, stop it with your stubbornness. It's unbecoming," Yao scoffed. "You have nothing to complain about. Alfred's only changed for the better."

"See, that's debatable."

"And why's that?"

The King looked at Yao straight in the eyes. "Because it looks like that son of mine finally grew some balls. But that doesn't mean it's always a good thing."

Yao snorted at the crude language. It rarely only happened when the King was beyond mentally exhausted and only ever in his or the Queen's presence. It never failed to amuse him. "Then in that case, let's just hope they grew in the right place." Yao dusted off his hands. "For your sake _and_ mine."

* * *

**And that pretty much about finalizes this whole schmur with Alfred and his father. I tried very hard to convey the relationship between the two as well as develop the King's own personality. Hopefully, it's enough for you guys to get a sense of the whole domestic situation in Spades. I have a bad habit of over-describing things sometimes so I tried to find a good medium so it gives you guys the right image, but at the same time let you guys reach conclusions on your own. **

**As you can see, the time skips are gradual, but they will increase in the future chapter(s). . . probably. **

**I think that's all the housekeeping stuff I needed to say. Hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and as usual, let me know your thoughts and if you found any mistakes or inconsistencies. I will fix!**

**See you in the next chapter!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Alfred and Arthur's first summer together ended as quickly as it had begun, bleeding into a short autumn as the two continued their new lifestyle together uninterrupted. Even throughout the winter season when things became incredibly tough for Arthur back at home, he never failed to attend his lessons at the palace. Some days he would even stay overnight at the palace because of a sudden storm that hit the kingdom and prevented him from leaving. Those days were Alfred's favourites, especially when the freezing cold temperatures at night gave him an excuse to sneak into Arthur's bed. They would frequently share stories under the covers, snuggling close for warmth and comfort until they followed each other into sleep.

But although life shared with Alfred at the palace was heartwarming, there was no escape from the challenges Arthur had to face as a peasant. This winter had been the longest and most treacherous one Spades had seen in centuries. Every day would be a gamble with nature and the irregular weather often trapped the citizens of Spades in showers of sleet and blankets of ice.

Within the kingdom, buildings collapsed and the agriculture suffered. Outside the kingdom, connections were involuntarily cut off. Because export demands weren't able to be sustained, imports suffered as a result. Shut-down trade routes stalled international as well as local activity, affecting absolutely everyone. It hit the poor exceptionally hard. Many weren't able to last through the combination of disease, cold, and starvation this winter brought and the number of the deceased spiked. It took all Arthur could to avoid falling victim to any of the depressing matters; physically and emotionally.

The brutal winter continued for several months and even as the New Year came and went, it was as if there was no end to all the misery. No one could catch a break. It wasn't until halfway through the year did the temperatures begin to rise again and the snowfall begin to dissipate into a late spring. The transition was slow and barely noticeable, but nonetheless, after what seemed like an endless winter, it was enough for the people of Spades to rejoice.

Unfortunately, better weather conditions also meant that they had to start dealing with the damages that had occurred. And considering just how many damages there were, they had their work cut out for them.

"Hopefully," Arthur grunted as he dug his shovel into the snow, "this will be the last major snowstorm we get this winter." He heaved the loaded shovel over to the side to empty it. "Hey, Alfred, how's it going on your part?" he called over his shoulder. When he didn't hear a reply, he stood up and looked to the barn where Alfred was supposed to be helping sweeping the snow off the barn roof. " . . . Alfred?"

The Prince was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, Arthur put his shovel down and walked closer to the barn. "Alfred?" he called out again. "Are you still there?" It had been the Prince who offered to help with chores and he really hoped he didn't just run off and abandon him. "Alfred, I swear, if you're hiding to scare me I'm going to give you a piece of my mind when you come out."

Arthur heard a bit of shuffling come from behind the barn and he cautiously rounded the corner. "Alfred?"

"I'm up here!"

Jumping at the sudden loud voice that was very much Alfred, Arthur looked in the direction of the voice only to see the boy climbing up the side of the roof. Arthur almost screamed.

Actually, he did scream - scream for Alfred to get down, that is.

"Alfred, what do you think you're doing?!" Arthur was horrified to see the Prince of Spades shuffling along the side of his barn's roof which was a good distance off the ground. One wrong move and broken bones would be assured.

"I couldn't get all the snow off so I thought it be easier if I climbed," Alfred answered easily, pushing the snow off with his feet as if to prove his point.

Arthur side-stepped to avoid getting snow plopped on his head. "That's why I gave you the broom, you idiot!"

"It doesn't reach the very top of the roof!" Alfred argued.

""It doesn't have to be perfectly clean!" Arthur sighed in exasperation. "Okay, whatever, it doesn't matter anymore. Just get back down here before you get yourself hurt!"

Alfred inched his way to the very side of the roof where a small patch of snow still stubbornly stuck to the panels. "Don't worry, I'm almost done!"

"Alfred, no!"

He reached out his hand. "Lemme just get this. . . last bit. . . Ah-!"

And that's when he slipped.

"Alfred!" Arthur screamed.

Next thing he knew, Alfred was flying off the edge of the roof and plummeting towards the ground. Without thinking, Arthur moved to catch him, arms open wide. The Prince collided straight into him and the two bowled over into the snow in a mess of grunts and limbs.

Disoriented, it took Alfred a few seconds before he remembered how to lift himself up. Sitting back on his knees, he blinked hard. Everything looked a little shaky before he managed to focus on Arthur's face in front of him.

"Well this looks familiar," Alfred wheezed, letting out a pained giggle.

Groaning, Arthur propped himself up on his elbows and rubbed the back of his head with a hand. Luckily the snow had cushioned him from any serious injuries. He opened his eyes to glare at the Prince. "What the hell did you think you were doing?! You could've seriously hurt yourself!" He coughed a few times, trying the regain the air that had been knocked out of him by the collision.

"I thought it was a good idea at the time!" Alfred tried to reason with the angry boy. "It was working so well until you came and distracted me."

"Me?!" Arthur cried incredulously. "I distracted you?! Oh please, don't try to blame your stupidity on me. I did absolutely nothing wrong. In fact, if it weren't for me, you'd be lying broken on the ground!"

Alfred pouted out of sheer stubbornness but he knew it would be pointless to keep making up excuses. After a few seconds, he managed to mutter a genuine apology. "Sorry, Artie. I guess I wasn't thinking right." He looked up at the farm boy. "Are you okay, though? I didn't hurt you too much, did I?"

Seeing the worry flood the Prince's eyes mellowed out Arthur's anger, much to his chagrin. At this point, he was too sore to stay angry for long. It didn't help that he was always weak to those puppy eyes of Alfred's.

"I'm alright," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his bruised ribs. "At least I think so. Nothing appears to be broken."

Alfred smiled in relief. "That's good. And I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, really!"

Arthur shook his head. "Just promise me you won't do something that idiotic ever again."

"I promise!" Alfred agreed easily. "And thanks for saving me, Artie. You really are my hero," he giggled.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Sentimental fool. Don't think sweet-talking me will make me less mad at you," he smirked.

Alfred feigned being offended. "I'm not sweet-talking anyone! I'm being serious!"

"Of course you are. Now would you kindly get off me? I'm starting to lose feeling in my legs."

"Ah, oops! Sorry!" Alfred climbed off Arthur's legs and was about to get back up onto his feet when he suddenly cried out in pain. "Ow!"

Arthur looked over at him. "What's wrong?"

Alfred sat on his knees, staring at his wrist. "It hurts," he answered simply. "I can't push on it."

"You can't push on it?" Arthur echoed in concern. "Let me see." He scooted closer and gently took Alfred's injured wrist in his hands. On the surface, the skin wasn't damaged in any way and feeling around, Arthur didn't feel any broken bones. But the area was most definitely tender and slightly red. "I think you sprained it on the fall."

"I did?" Alfred asked tearfully.

Arthur huffed out an angry sigh. "I told you that you were going to get yourself hurt!" Mumbling curses under his breath, he grabbed a handful of snow and pressed it to the injured area. "Here, hold this until we get inside. I'll let Mom bandage it up."

Alfred nodded and obediently listened without complaining. Usually, the Prince would start tearing up or whining that it hurt. So it was either from the shock he was being so quiet or because he was putting up a brave front. Either way, Arthur was slightly impressed at the change.

Opening the back door, the boys entered the house and stomped off any excess snow on their boots. Alfred dropped the melting snow he was holding outside before he closed the door.

"Mom, we're back! But Alfred got injured!" Arthur called out. When he got no reply, he called out again. "Mom, are you home?" He was met with silence.

"Did your mom leave?" Alfred asked from behind, trying to slide off his outer layers without hurting his wrist further.

Arthur scanned around. "Looks like it. . . probably to get ingredients for dinner tonight." Seeing Alfred's struggle, he clicked his tongue. "Here, let me help." Alfred flinched when Arthur's cold fingers grazed the back of his neck to hold the collar. While lifting the half of the jacket that had already been discarded, Arthur tugged at the other sleeve and it slid off with ease. Turning around to hang it up, Arthur missed the blush that bloomed across Alfred's cheeks when he stuttered his thanks.

"Hopefully she'll be back soon," Arthur said in reply. "It wouldn't be good to leave your wrist untreated for so long." Thinking to himself, he told Alfred to sit down, pointing at the couch. "Go have a seat. I'll go get you some ice." Before Alfred even had a chance to reply, Arthur was back out the door.

A little stunned, Alfred stood by the door blinking a few times before he remembered how to move. Taking off his boots and careful not to step in any puddles, Alfred shuffled his way over to the couch and sat. While he waited, he looked at his wrist, the clock, the window – anything to distract him while sitting in complete silence. His wrist was beginning to throb and the last thing he wanted to do was focus on the pain.

Being alone in someone else's house was more awkward than anything Alfred had ever experienced, especially one so small. Here at Arthur's, everything was so lived-in and personal that Alfred couldn't help but feel like he was intruding every time he came. Although Alfred had to admit, being surrounded in such warmth was a welcoming change. Compared to the often cold and regal atmosphere of all the nobles' and royals' houses, a home like Arthur's was definitely something Alfred would much rather have.

Just then, the back door opened and re-entered Arthur. Alfred immediately smiled seeing his best friend again.

"About time," joked Alfred.

"Yes, yes, my apologies," Arthur replied sarcastically. Holding a small bucket in his hands, he took off his shoes and jacket and walked over to Alfred, sitting down beside him on the couch. "Let me see your wrist," he said, holding out a hand. When Alfred offered it to him, the older boy winced at the now evidently swollen skin.

Seeing the guilt appear on Arthur's face, Alfred quickly tried to reassure him. "It doesn't hurt that bad," he said. "It just looks bad."

Arthur pressed his lips together, uncertain. The guilt wouldn't quite settle. He didn't like seeing people he cared about hurt, even though it was their own fault for hurting themselves in the first place. Using a clean towel, Arthur wrapped up some ice and carefully placed it on the injured area, lightly dabbing it around so Alfred could get used to the temperature. "Let me know if it hurts," he said.

Alfred nodded and simply observed Arthur's movements, letting himself being treated. This time, the silence that followed was familiar. Then again, the silence was always comfortable whenever Arthur was around.

Growing up, Alfred hated the silence. It reminded him too much of the times he spent alone without his parents and without friends. That loneliness was something he always held a grudge against his father for and was the reason behind the fierce protectiveness he developed for his friendship with Arthur. But when he started to spend more time with Arthur, he was introduced to a whole different side of silence that he eventually learned to appreciate.

Arthur was a fairly quiet person (when he wasn't mad at anything or anyone) and had the ability to create a comfortable environment wherever he was. Whether it was reading by the fire or having a picnic outdoors, it never took much to settle into a gentle lull whenever Arthur was there. Of course, Alfred still loved to get wild and loud with him but that didn't mean it wasn't nice to just relax and enjoy each other's company once in a while.

So as Arthur held the ice against Alfred's wrist, Alfred's gaze began to wander. He first inspected Arthur's hair. Unruly as it was, the mop of blond hair was actually smooth to the touch. His eyebrows, still larger than the average size, was just as unruly but Alfred had quickly grown to appreciate their uniqueness. They suited Arthur's face quite nicely and really wasn't as bad as Arthur liked to say they were. Currently, those eyebrows were furrowed in their default position, if not even more so from concern.

They framed Arthur's eyes - focused green eyes sharp enough to cut that were too busy eyeing the swell of Alfred's wrist to notice the equally focused looks Alfred was giving him. On more than one occasion, Alfred had been given the chance to stare into Arthur's eyes. By now, he was convinced that those eyes had something magical about them. As if they had a life of their own, they would sparkle whenever Arthur told stories, darken whenever he got angry, and sharpened whenever he concentrated. Alfred's favourite, however, were the times those vibrant green eyes glowed with an indescribable emotion behind them during their softer, sentimental moments together: during those whispers and secrets shared under the blankets, the nights spent under the stars, those sleepy afternoons of naps and dreams. Needless to say whenever Alfred saw that look it never failed to give his stomach butterflies.

"Here, hold this," Arthur said after a few minutes, looking up. Their eyes met - clear blue clashed with brilliant green - and Arthur was startled to see the intense look Arthur was giving him. But in an instant, the reverie was shattered and Alfred blinked.

"'Kay," Alfred answered, slightly flustered from being caught staring. He took the towel bundle from Arthur and ducked his head, hoping the older boy wouldn't see his blush.

Arthur stared at the Prince for a few seconds, unsettled. What was with that look before? It had been so unlike him; so serious and deep that it made Arthur's hair stand on end. Now, seeing the boy blushing up to his ears made something tighten inside his chest. Arthur decided in the end – more his own sake than Alfred's – to brush it off as a trick of the light and not bring it up.

He cleared his throat. "Let me just grab some bandages." Arthur stood, drying his damp hands on his pants. Walking to one of the nearby drawers, he pulled out some supplies, talking to himself all the while to make himself feel less awkward. "I can try my best to bandage your wrist but I'm worried I'm only going to make it worse. I don't know too much about sprains since I never had one myself but Mom should know because. . . well, she knows everything. But the problem is I don't know when she'll be back. But she should be back soon since the village isn't too far away so maybe we can just wait. But waiting too long isn't good either so-"

"Arthur," Alfred interrupted the boy's trouble ranting, "you're overthinking things way too much," he giggled. "Just wrap the bandage or something and if it's wrong, your mom can fix it when she gets back."

Arthur shook his head. "One, that's a waste of bandages, and two, I don't want to do anything that might accidently make your injury worse."

Alfred shifted his mouth to one side in thought. "Then why don't you just heal me with your powers?"

Arthur immediately paled and his eyes widened in fear. "No. Absolutely not."

"Aw, why not?"

"Alfred, I explained to you last time why I don't use my powers!"

"But you healed the cat and nothing happened!"

"I was just. . . lucky that time, that's all. And I only used it because we had no other choice."

Alfred pouted. "Are you saying the cat's more important than me?"

Sighing in exasperation, Arthur walked over with the bandages and sat back down with a huff. "You know that's not what I mean at all."

"Then why not?"

Arthur turned to his best friend and shouted in sheer panic. "Alfred, I could kill you!" Giving a few seconds to let it sink in, Arthur turned his hard gaze to his hands. They nervously kneaded into each other, as if doing so could stifle any backfires. "I thought you got it last time when I told you about these weird powers of mine. If I'm not careful, everything around me starts dying and if I use my healing powers, it only makes it worse and more likely to happen. I've killed something before, remember? And I never want to go through that again. I promised I wouldn't use them unless it's the last resort."

"But Arthur, hiding them only makes things worse!" Alfred tried to reason. "Didn't you learn anything from our magic lessons? The more powerful the magic, the more it should be practiced. That way you learn how to control it. If you keep bottling it up, it might explode!"

"Oh, Alfred, be reasonable," Arthur said desperately. "How would I be able to practice my _killing_ powers if I can't even control what or _who_ I might kill?! The risks are just too high."

"I'm sure we can find a way! I can ask my mom or Yao. Or even my father! I'm sure once he hears that you're a Healer he'd be willing to invest in helping you grow stronger."

"I don't know. . ." Arthur said uncertainly. But in all honesty, it sounded tempting. If his lessons didn't tell him enough about the dangerous consequences of with-holding one's powers, his own frustrations of not being able to test the promising aspects of his rare abilities definitely helped. He looked at Alfred, taking in his eager expression. "Okay fine, but that doesn't mean I'm going to heal you."

"But you healed the cat!" Alfred whined.

"Alfred, no."

"Arthur!"

"I said no!"

"Not even a little bit?"

"Not even a little bit."

"But Arthur-" Alfred was going to complain more when the front door suddenly opened and Arthur's mom came inside, groceries in hand.

"Hi boys, did everything go okay?" she asked, closing the door with her foot.

Arthur shifted nervously. "Hi Mom! Erm. . . not really."

"Why not? Did something happen?" That's when she took in the sight of Alfred nursing his wrist and the ice bucket near their feet. "Oh goodness, Alfred, are you alright?" Quickly setting the groceries down at the kitchen table, she approached the boys to check see what was going on.

Alfred took off the towel to reveal his swollen wrist. "I uh. . . was trying to clean the snow off the barn roof by climbing on it but then I uh. . . fell," he explained, giggling nervously. "Luckily, Arthur caught me so it's not any worse than this."

Smiling at the comedic story but shaking her head at the result, she took Alfred's wrist in her hand to examine it. "Then I guess it was a good thing Arthur was there. Let me wash my hands and I'll be right over to bandage it up. Hopefully your Jack won't come demanding for compensation," she laughed.

"Nah, Yao wouldn't do that. He knows by now that I'm the one who causes all the problems. Actually," he jokingly pouted, "he's more on Arthur's side than mine most of the time."

"Rightfully so," Arthur pointed out. Alfred just stuck his tongue out at him.

As Arthur's mom began to bandage Alfred's wrist, she asked out of curiosity, "Arthur, why didn't you help bandage Alfred while I was out?"

"I didn't know how." Arthur carefully observed his mother's movements, mentally recording it for future reference. "I didn't want to do something that might make it worse."

"Hm, I suppose that's for the best," she said, nodding.

"But I don't get it," Alfred piped up, and by the time Arthur got a very bad feeling about what he was going to say next, it was too late.

"Get what?" asked Arthur's mother.

"If Arthur has healing powers, why hasn't he learned to use them? I mean, wouldn't it be better if he practiced controlling them?"

Hearing the questions made Arthur's mother freeze. She looked at the young Prince. "So Arthur has finally told you about his powers, hm?" she asked with a smile on her face, carefully choosing to not directly answer his questions. There was caution hidden behind it but Alfred didn't notice.

Alfred also didn't notice the looks Arthur was giving him and nodded. "Yup!" Arthur mentally face-palmed, knowing that this had always been a touchy subject to bring up with his mom.

"Did he tell you anything else?" she asked.

Alfred was either purposely ignoring Arthur's signals for him to stop or just completely oblivious. "Well he also told me that they had dangerous side-effects," he added. This time, Arthur actually slapped a hand to his forehead.

Arthur's mother glanced over at her son who shrunk away from her look. "Oh, did he now?" She resumed her bandaging, strangely calm. "And what do you think about them? Does it scare you?"

Alfred was about to shake his head when he stopped himself. "I. . . guess I'd be lying to say I wasn't completely scared. It's scary for sure! But that doesn't mean I'm scared of Arthur."

"Interesting answer," she laughed. "I approve."

Arthur took this chance to speak up. Looking at his mother, he hesitantly asked, "So does this mean you're not mad at me for telling him?"

His mother paused in thought, gathering her words so she could get her meaning across. "Arthur, do you remember why I told you to keep your powers hidden?"

He nodded. "Because you didn't want other people to find out about them since they're so rare and dangerous."

"Exactly. And some people can be mean and selfish. They'll want your powers for their own needs instead of respecting you about them. You don't want your powers to fall into the hands of the wrong people, do you?" she asked rhetorically. Arthur shook his head, remembering the details of the very first conversation he had with his mother about his powers when his first _accident_ occurred. In reply, his mother sent him a brief, reassuring smile. "But these are your powers after all, and you have every right to tell them to whoever you deem fit to know. I've already warned you about the dangers, but there's only so much I can do. I've left it in your judgement. If you trust Alfred to keep your secret than I have no complaints."

Arthur didn't hesitate to give an affirmative nod. "Yeah, I trust him."

"Good." His mother looked up at Alfred who wasn't even trying to hide the embarrassed smile on his little face. "And how about you, Prince Alfred? Has Arthur put his trust in the right person?"

"Of course!" Alfred beamed, jutting his chin up proudly. "Arthur can trust me with anything!"

Laughing, she finished up with bandaging his wrist. "Excellent. I'll leave my son in your dependable hands then."

"Mom!" Arthur complained, face turning red. "You're making it sound weird. Like you're giving me to him or something." Hearing that made Alfred's face explode into a blush as well, and seeing the two boys turning red together, Arthur's mother couldn't help but laugh.

"I meant nothing of the sort," she grinned, standing up to put the leftover supplies away. "Alfred, make sure you don't use that wrist of yours for at least two days or so. It might need occasional icing, but it's not a serious sprain. So plenty of rest is really all it needs."

"I understand! Thank you so much!"

"You're very welcome." Dusting off her hands, she walked towards the kitchen. "Arthur would you mind helping me put away the groceries? Then you can escort Alfred back home so he can get back in time for dinner."

"Yes, Mom." But as Arthur was about to stand, Alfred used his good hand to tug at his shirt to pull him back down. Arthur fell back down and shot Alfred a look. "What was that for?"

Alfred paid the grumpy response no mind. "Don't you think this is a good time to ask your mom about our plan to work on your powers?" he asked excitedly.

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. "I don't know, Alfred. She was insist on us keeping it a secret and everything."

"Just ask her then! You never know if she'll say yes or not."

Arthur's mother appeared from the kitchen. "Ask me what?" she asked, smiling.

"It's nothing!" Arthur quickly blurted. But Alfred was going to have none of it. He turned to Arthur's mother with what he hoped was an endearing smile.

"We were just thinking it would be a good idea for Arthur to practice his powers! If he practices his healing powers he won't be so scared of them anymore and could use them more often!" he smiled. "Don't you think so?"

The smile on Arthur's mother's face immediately dropped. "No," she said, a little too quickly. "Absolutely not."

Alfred faltered and Arthur grew a little defensive at the quick rejection. "Why not? It's not good to hold back your powers if you have them, Mom!"

The sharp look he got from his mother made Arthur regret speaking up. "We've had this conversation before, Arthur. No using your powers unless it was a life or death situation. If you start to loosen the constraint you have on your powers, it's only going to make the side-effects stronger along with it."

"But that's more of a reason to train, isn't it? That way I can learn to control the side-effects so they won't happen-"

"My answer is _no_, Arthur!" she said harshly. The volume to which she raised her voice made Arthur flinch. He had never heard his mother this angry before and he shut up immediately.

But to say she was angry wouldn't be entirely correct. She was frustrated, but not at her son. She was scared, but not for herself. She knew that a day like this would come; a day when Arthur with his good-hearted soul and intensions would want to test the borders of his healing powers. But she couldn't let him. Especially when she hadn't told Arthur the truth about his powers. . . and the curse that lay behind them.

Seeing the frightened look on her son's face made her chest tighten in guilt and she willed her desperate emotions to calm down. Walking towards her son, she knelt in front of him, taking in his hands with hers. Ah, they were still so small, she thought sadly. Still so young. How cruel it was of Fate to give him such a heavy burden from birth.

"Oh Arthur, sweetheart, I know you mean well. But you need to realize how dangerous it would be if you went through with it. You would not only be endangering yourself, but absolutely everyone and everything around you. And I know you don't want to hurt them."

"But Arthur healed a cat last summer!" Alfred interjected. "And nothing bad happened to it."

Arthur heard his mother sharply inhale and he couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes that were no doubt looking at him, demanding for answers. "You. . . healed something?" she asked. Arthur nodded. There were a few seconds of tense silence before his mother suddenly relaxed and gently squeezed his hands, causing him to look up at her. To Arthur's surprise, she was smiling. It wasn't a complete smile and something about it was still off, but she was smiling nonetheless. "I'm glad," was all she said before her expression turned serious again. "Promise me, Arthur. Promise me you won't ever use your powers unless you have absolutely no choice left." Arthur hesitated, desperately searching his mother's green eyes for some sort of explanation as to why she was so insistent.

Seeing his hesitation, his mother squeezed his hands a little more firmly. "Promise me, please."

Arthur looked over at Alfred. The poor Prince was shaking his head with his wide, blue eyes pleading for him to keep fighting back. But when Arthur looked back at his mother and saw the swirl of emotions in her eyes and on her face, he relented. "I promise, Mom." He didn't like seeing her so scared and sad.

She sighed in relief. "Thank you." A gentle hand cupped the side of his face. "And I truly am sorry, Arthur. When you grow older, you will understand the reasons behind my actions. But until then, you must keep your promise. You absolutely must."

* * *

The boys walked back towards the palace in silence. It wasn't until they could see the front entrance did Alfred speak up. Seeing Arthur's depressed expression all the way back, he just had to say something.

"I still don't think it's fair," Alfred grumbled. "There's gotta be some way you can test your powers out without being scared of the side-effects."

Arthur sighed in agreement. "I just don't get it. Why is my mom so worried?"

"Because you might kill the things around you?"

"I mean, other than that. I just can't help but feel like my mom's hiding something from me."

"Maybe it's some other super-secret power you haven't discovered yet?"

"I doubt it," Arthur laughed though his nose. "Whatever it is, it's making her do all this. I guess it's for my own good that she made me promise."

Alfred shook his head. "That just can't be right! What's so wrong with training to control your power? Doesn't that only make it better? And healing powers, above all else! You're _gifted_, Arthur. It would be a waste to not use it."

Arthur didn't answer. He didn't know how. His mother's insistency had left an impact on him and deep in his heart, he knew she was protecting him. But the other half of him felt annoyed that his mother was refusing to disclose any more information, not to mention considerably down-hearted that he couldn't be proud of a power so rare and helpful to the world. So all he said to Alfred was, "Be careful you don't tell anyone about it," and left it at that.

Still, Alfred was peeved. So as they arrived at the palace, they stopped just outside the walls and Alfred turned to Arthur with a determined look on his face. "Don't worry, Artie, I'll figure out a way for you to train! I'm sure there's a way."

"But I promised my mom I wouldn't use them."

"She doesn't have to know!"

"Alfred, I promised. I don't break promises."

"You promised you wouldn't use them unless it was absolutely necessary. In that case, we'll just make it so that it's like that! Just like the cat!" Arthur didn't look too convinced and Alfred rolled his eyes at how much of a goody-two-shoes his best friend could be at times. "Don't worry! Your mom won't find out. Nothing bad will happen either! Remember, you healed the cat just fine so I believe in you!"

Arthur gave the younger boy a helpless smile. "I'll think about it, I guess. And um. . . I'm sorry about your wrist. I shouldn't have made you help me with the chores. If you want, I can tell Yao that it was my fault."

Alfred waved it off. "I was the one who volunteered to do it! I've never been allowed to do any labour in my life so I'm glad you gave me the chance."

Arthur snorted. "And look where that got you."

Alfred giggled. "Guess I'm not cut out for it."

"I think you'd do better on your studies, and that's saying something."

"Hey!" Alfred grinned and went to tickle Arthur in revenge.

The farm boy dodged. "Watch your wrist, idiot!" But he laughed anyway. "Not fair! I can't attack an injured person!" The two ran around for a bit until Arthur convinced the Prince to have mercy. "You need to rest your wrist, not fool around with it."

Alfred shrugged. "I'll just go to my Healer or something. At least they're willing to do something." He had intended to tease Arthur, but it came out sounding more accusing than he had anticipated. Both boys winced. "Sorry, Artie. I didn't mean it like that."

Arthur shook his head helplessly. "Well you're not wrong." He gave the Prince a joking punch to his good arm after seeing the conflicted expression on his face. "Now, don't make that face. Weren't you going to help me find a way to train my powers?"

Alfred brightened. "You bet I will!"

Arthur couldn't say he was still one hundred percent okay with it since he would be going against his promise with his mother, but he willed his determination to stifle his doubt, believing that it would be for the best. "I'm looking forward to what ideas you'll come up with," he smirked at Alfred.

Neither boys will ever notice that they haven't seen the cat ever since that day in the gardens.

* * *

**Yay, I managed to squeeze this chapter out in between my exams! But I'm not even at the eye of the storm yet so I probably won't be able to get another chapter out until the end of the month when all my exams are over. . . Apologies ahead of time!**

**But thank you all so much for your support until now. I can't say enough how grateful I am to all of you. Especially to those who I see every chapter, and those guests who I can't reply to, I thank you with all my heart.**

**As always, let me know what you think so far! Hope to see you in the next chapter!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

It was a cloudy morning as Arthur was making his way to the palace. A rainstorm had just washed over the kingdom the previous night and left only mud and puddles in its wake. Usually, Arthur never minded the mud. But if he was planning to enter the Spades palace for his lessons, he had better look the part.

Unfortunately for him, luck wasn't on his side that day. Right as he turned a corner, a mud-ball came hurling at him and it exploded on his chest, splattering all over his face. Shocked at the impact and partially blinded, Arthur lost his footing and slipped. Adding insult to injury, he landed straight on his butt with a wet splat.

There was a collective gasp from whom Arthur assumed were the group of people – or children, to be more precise – throwing these mud-balls around. "So sorry!" one of them stuttered out an apology from a few feet away. "Didn't see you there!"

Arthur wiped the mud off his face, trying to keep his temper under control. "It's alright," he grumbled while getting up. Just his luck to walk right in between a mud fight between some of the village kids.

One of them must have recognized him because the moment he straightened himself up, they yelled, "Hey look, it's Arthur! We just hit Arthur!" Immediately, the atmosphere changed and several of the kids burst into laughter. All sense of regret, utterly gone.

"Sorry, Arthur! Couldn't see you behind those eyebrows of yours!" one of them snorted.

"They were probably too big for you to watch where you were going!" another one leered.

"That's what you get for walking in on our fight!"

Arthur spat out some mud that landed in his mouth. "Oh, piss off," he growled at them.

They ignored him. "Hey, guys! Ten points if you can hit him again!"

"Double for whoever can get his head!"

Arthur quickly ducked back around the corner as several mud-balls came flying at him with a chorus of hooting laughter, splattering onto the walls right by his head. Feeling insulted, Arthur wanted nothing more than to go after him with a couple mud-balls of his own. But considering how he was pressed for time, he back-tracked and went to follow another road to the palace. "As rude and brutish as ever," he muttered. "Good riddance to those cowards." And to think he tried to be friends with those animals a few years back. Thank goodness he didn't end up like them, he thought.

Arthur looked at the letter in his hand. Trying his best to wipe away the dirt that coated it, he frowned in despair when he only managed to soil it further.

Alfred's aerial message arrived early that morning and by the way the parchment flew smack-flat right into Arthur's face, Arthur wouldn't have needed to read its contents to know it bore good news from the Prince. The boy's excitement must've bled into his spell for his letter to land on its recipient so earnestly. When Arthur opened the letter, he wasn't at all surprised to find out the reason behind all the commotion:

_Morning, Artie!_

_Come to the palace as soon as you can! And I mean RIGHT NOW!_

_I finally got Yao to agree to help you train!_

Re-reading it, Arthur shook his head at the boy's frantic writing and over-usage of exclamation points. However, Alfred's excitement was contagious, as usual, and Arthur couldn't help but smile after scanning over the words again.

Lost in his own thoughts and with his eyes still glued on the letter, Arthur wasn't paying attention to the path he was walking on. Inevitably, he collided head-on with another person walking in the opposite direction.

For the second time that day, Arthur fell back into the mud – this time, with the addition of a puddle being conveniently right under him. His pants, which were already caked with mud from the previous incident, got completely soaked, and his letter, which had been damaged by the rainwater, was now drenched and beyond saving. Seeing the letters on the paper bleed into watery ink, Arthur saw less and less reason to stay calm.

Fortunately, the person he had bumped into decided to speak first. "_Oh non_, are you alright? I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

Arthur looked up and was momentarily stunned at the sight. For a good second or two, he thought he had bumped into a female version of Alfred. It appeared she was a few years older than him and she had delicate facial features framed by shoulder-length, golden locks of hair. Her blue eyes were wide with worry as she offered a hand to him.

"Are you alright?" she repeated. "You're not hurt, are you?"

Arthur blinked himself out of reverie and hesitated in accepting her hand. "Uh, I don't think you want to get your hands dirty," he said, noting how smooth they were. Judging by how polished they were, Arthur knew this girl was definitely part of the higher class. "I'm covered in mud," he said. And before he got a reply, he stood up by himself, grimacing at his dirtied state and the feeling of wet pants stuck to his skin. "But thank you for your kindness."

"As long as you're unhurt, I'm glad," she responded with utmost grace in her tongue, taking back her hand.

Now that he was standing and not as disoriented, Arthur realized that saying how this girl resembled Alfred was a bit of a wager. First, not only was her hair longer, but much paler as well – the shade being lighter than even Arthur's sun-bleached hair. Then were her eyes. Unlike Alfred's piercing blue, this girl had darker, mellower hues. Lastly, of course, was her height as she was almost half a head taller than Arthur.

"A-Are you alright?" Arthur managed to ask, realizing that he was staring again.

"Well I didn't land on my behind as spectacularly as you did, so I can't be all that bad," she laughed teasingly. Arthur blushed, but as he shied his eyes away, he noticed the mud splatter all over the girl's golden-yellow dress. He was so horrified that he had soiled what was probably an expensive dress of a nobleman's daughter that Arthur didn't notice the distinct diamond pattern embedded on its hem.

"I-I'm sorry!" he quickly apologized, tensing. It took a second before the girl knew what he was talking about and only when she followed his gaze down to her dress did her confused expression melt into realization.

"Ah, and this one's my favourite. . ." she mumbled to herself.

Arthur tensed up even more. "Sorry!" he apologized again. "I-I'll pay for it if I have to." He mentally slapped himself almost right after the words left his mouth. As if he could. And judging by the material, replacing it definitely won't come cheap.

Seeing Arthur's regret, the blonde giggled and raised an eyebrow at him. "And someone like you would be able to pay for my clothes?" she questioned rhetorically. Arthur blushed and looked away, causing the girl to laugh. "Forget it," she said, shaking her head. "I'll just get one of my servants to wash it. Or get another one made if the damages are beyond repair."

Arthur still looked unsure. "But. . . I still feel bad. Can't I do something to make up for it?"

The girl placed a finger to her chin. "Then how about this? Take me to the Spades palace and I'll consider us even."

Arthur blinked. The request sounded almost irrelevant to the problem and hardly an equal payback. "The Spades palace?"

"Let's just say I'm supposed to meet someone there. But I wandered off on my own and got lost."

"You're a foreigner?" Arthur asked.

"Of sorts," she winked.

"Well, if you say it's enough to pay you back then sure, I'll take you there," he said, still slightly unsure. "But only if you say so. Here, let's go this way." The girl dutifully walked along beside him and the two maintained a light silence until Arthur decided to make conversation. "I was actually going to the palace myself before I ran into you."

The girl's blue eyes lit up as she looked down over at him. "Oh, were you? Are you a servant there?"

Arthur shook his head, internally brushing aside at the slight jab he felt from hearing her assumption. "No, I'm studying there."

"Studying? But aren't you a commoner? How does someone like you get to study in the palace?"

Another jab. Arthur tried to pay it no mind. "I'm studying with my friend."

"And who's this friend of yours?" When Arthur hesitated, she leaned towards him with a teasing smile and a raised eyebrow. "Is it the Prince of Spades, by any chance?"

Arthur's eyes widened and he turned to her. "How did you-?"

"That letter you're holding has the Prince's personal seal on it," she said, pointing at the dirtied paper Arthur was holding in his hand. "He wouldn't use it unless it was for business purposes, and that only applies to those of higher class. And yet, a little boy like you has it. Pray tell, why does a commoner like you have a letter from the Prince of Spades? Who are you? What exactly do you mean to him?"

A little baffled and a little offended, Arthur frowned at her tone of voice. "You're asking a lot of questions, don't you think?"

"I'm just curious, is all," came her innocent reply.

Arthur snorted. "All I'm going to tell you is that we're best friends. Everything else is really none of your business."

"Hmph, stingy," the girl pouted.

"What?! I'm not being stingy. Don't you think you're the one being a little nosey? I hear it's not nice for a lady to be nosey."

The girl gave him an odd look. "Lady?"

"Yeah, aren't you a high-class lady?"

A few seconds passed before the girl broke out into a wicked smile. "Why, yes, of course I'm a lady. But I don't find myself particularly nosey. Just curious."

"Well your curiosity seems nosey to me."

"Maybe it's because of our class difference that you seem to think so." From the look in her eyes, Arthur knew she was purposely trying to rile him up. Odd.

"I don't need to be high class to know you're not minding your own business," he bit back. He held back on the usual harshness he carried with his retorts, but only because he was in the presence of an older, higher class girl.

But Arthur was confused. The more they talked, the more he felt like something was off about this girl. Sure, she had grace and delicate features, but her personality was strong – much too strong to fit the image of a girl with high-class upbringing. Not to mention how easily she teased and spoke without guarding her tongue. This kind of personality was very unlike the norm. Maybe this had to do with the fact that she was a foreigner?

The girl smirked. "Seems like you're a feisty one. Maybe that's why you're able to keep up with that untamed little Prince."

Arthur didn't like the way she said that. "People aren't _untamed_. They're not animals. And Alfred's definitely not an animal so he's not _untamed_. He's just young."

"How interesting. You speak of him without his title," the girl remarked, ignoring what he just said.

"He's my best friend. Why wouldn't I call him by his name?"

The girl's smile grew. She very much enjoyed the answers this boy gave her. "Seems like the Prince of Spades has found a new pet to play with."

Arthur practically bristled. "What do you mean by that-?!"

"Oh, look!" she interrupted, glancing down the road past Arthur's head. "This place is good enough for you to drop me off at."

Arthur looked around. "But we've still got another block to go."

"I recognize this road. I'll be able to find my way through here," she waved dismissively.

Arthur frowned, suspicious and uncertain. "Okay. . . well, if you say so." He scratched the back of his head. "I guess this is goodbye then."

"_Mais non! _Not goodbye, no," she said, smiling flirtatiously – slyly, even. "I'm sure this won't be the last time we'll see each other."

"What do you mean by that?" Arthur asked, narrowing his eyes.

Instead of answering, the girl leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. Standing up straight, she grinned, enjoying the sight of the boy's face growing increasingly more red by the second as his mouth dropped open. "Thank you for your help, _Alfred's best friend_," she giggled. "I won't soon forget it." Before Arthur could even remember he could speak, she turned on her heels and skipped away. Soon she disappeared around the corner.

Frozen in shock, Arthur placed a hand to the cheek she had kissed, feeling the hot temperature of his skin. For the rest of the journey to the Spades palace, Arthur was too busy internally screaming to realize he hadn't bothered to introduce himself let alone ask the girl for her name.

* * *

Alfred ran over to his best friend when he saw him come out to join him in the courtyard. "Arthur, you're late!"

Arthur was too emotionally drained to even bother correcting the Prince in saying that they had never set a time to meet in the first place. So he apologized. "Sorry, sorry, I got caught up with something. Actually, several things." But then Arthur grimaced at himself and sighed tiredly. "Or rather, I got caught up with _someone_."

Alfred frowned in confusion at the older boy's vague explanations. "What on earth are you talking about? And what _happened_ to you? You're covered in mud!"

Arthur looked down at his sorry state. He was pretty dry already, but the mud stains were relentlessly grabbing on to his clothing. If he ever needed to appear even more like a farm boy, this would be it.

"I walked right into the middle of a mud-fight between some of the other village kids," he grunted, trying to pat away some of the dry pieces off his pants.

"It's all over your face too," Alfred pointed out. Without much thought he licked his finger and rubbed at a dirt spot on Arthur's chin, much to the other's horror.

"Oh, Alfred, gross!" Arthur cried, recoiling from his touch.

Alfred blinked, half trying to process what he just did and half trying not to feel so wounded by Arthur's rejection. "What?" he pouted. "I'm just trying to help."

"I don't need your _spit_ helping me, thank you very much." Arthur kept trying to pick off any dry spots before giving Alfred a worried look. "But do you think I can clean up somewhere? I don't think it'll be too proper of me to walk around looking like this."

Alfred shifted his mouth to one side thoughtfully. "Hmm, but Yao's waiting for us."

"Oh," Arthur said. "Best not to keep him waiting, then."

Alfred nodded in agreement. "C'mon then! I can't wait to show you what we've got set up. Just for you!" Arthur followed the Prince to an isolated corner of the giant courtyard they were in.

When Arthur had arrived at the palace, he had been greeted by one of the guards sent to fetch him. He had been surprised since it was usually Alfred who excitedly came to greet him at the door every time, but when the guard took him to one of the many unexplored wings of the palace and turned several complicated combinations of turns, Arthur knew it was for good reason.

Well, it was either because Alfred was too lazy to come get him, or because of how Alfred's hyperactive personality usually got them lost in the Prince's own home whenever he got too excited. Arthur assumed the latter. That boy was admittedly lazy at times, but when it came to matters involving Arthur, he was always the exact opposite.

"Arthur! Good of you to finally arrive." Yao waved when the boys came into sight.

"Good morning, Mr. Wang. Sorry if you had to wait long for me," Arthur apologized.

Then Yao saw the state the boy was in. "_Aiya_, what happened to your clothes?"

Arthur sighed. "Long story."

The Jack grunted. "Well as much as I'd like for you to clean up before your training session, we wouldn't want to keep our Healer waiting."

Arthur froze. "H-Healer?"

Alfred coughed nervously beside him. "Oh yeah, Artie, I uh. . . forgot to tell you but I had to tell Yao that you're a Healer or else he wouldn't help us." Arthur was about to yell at him when Yao interjected.

"Now, I know you wanted to keep your powers a secret," the Jack said, "but I can't go setting up magical barriers in corners of the castle without good reason."

"He promises not to tell anyone else!" Alfred tried to persuade Arthur into forgiving him for spilling the secret. "It'll just be between the four of us."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at the Prince. And he had made the boy promise him to not tell anyone about his secret. Alfred had promised to find a way to help without telling anyone!

Seeing the lingering accusation, Alfred pouted and made his best puppy-eyes at his best friend. "I'm sorry, Arthur, but I had no choice!"

The farm boy huffed a sigh. "Alright, alright, I get it." Alfred smiled, relieved at the make-shift pardon. Arthur couldn't really stay all that mad at him anyway. He knew Alfred was just trying to help. But to tell Yao of all people. . . Arthur was just worried the King will be hearing about this. The last person he wanted to know about his powers was the head monarch of Spades, especially after his mother's warning.

"Come now, Arthur. Let me introduce you to our Healer. He's right inside here." Yao gestured for them to follow him into a greenhouse-looking building right behind him.

Made of frosted glass, no doubt for privacy, the greenhouse was fairly large and spacious. On the inside, Arthur was surprised to see an assortment of shelves lining the walls, filled with books and strange instruments. Several jars containing oddly coloured liquids and unknown substances were safely kept behind glass cupboards, and a few potted plants sat on the tables running down the middle of the room.

"I'm surprised you're keeping your rare powers a secret," Yao commented as they walked down the aisle. Arthur could see a man standing at one of the tables at the end, back turned towards them and unaware of their arrival. "If I knew you had such potential I would've arranged for training sessions much earlier."

Arthur worried the inside of his cheek and hesitated in answering. But it seemed like Yao wasn't looking for one since he didn't seem interested in pressing the matter any further. All he did was turn his attention to the Healer as they approached closer.

"_Xiao Chun_!" Yao called out in an accented voice. "Arthur's here." When the man made no reaction, Yao sighed and walked up beside him. "_Xiao Chun, _are you deaf or purposely ignoring me?"

"Well I'm not deaf so what do you think?" the man answered lowly, hovered over his utensils. Arthur was surprised to hear how young the Healer sounded.

Yao tapped his fingers to his forehead in exasperation, frowning. "I do not appreciate your sarcasm. And I was only gone for a few minutes, what could you have possibly gotten yourself into that requires this much concentration?"

Seemingly done with whatever he was doing, the Healer straightened himself up and turned to the Jack. "With the King constantly sending his soldiers out into meaningless battles, I'm constantly filled up on medical orders. I have no time to waste. And yet you send me outside, away from my office, to do something as bothersome as training an apprentice?"

Arthur flinched at the harsh words and Yao slapped the man's shoulder. "Don't be rude. Be grateful you even have a job. With that tongue of yours no wonder your parents asked me for help to find you one here where I can keep an eye out on you." The man clicked his tongue in annoyance and Yao turned to Arthur with an apologetic look. "Don't mind this grump. He's only like this when he's around me. Let me introduce you to _Li Xiao Chun_. Or Leon Li. He's the Royal Healer in the Spades palace."

"Thank you for letting me train with you, Mr. Li." Arthur bowed in gratitude.

The Healer brushed through his chin-length brown hair with his hand. "Just call me Leon. You're Arthur, I assume?"

Arthur nodded. With the man's serious expression, it was hard to tell what he was thinking and Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. But with Leon's youthful physical appearance, he didn't seem particularly mean, especially with his choppy brown hair and those light brown eyes of his.

"Well, I'll leave you two to it." Yao folded his hands into his sleeves. "I'll be back at lunchtime to check up on you to see if you've had any progress, hm?"

"Can I stay and watch?" Alfred asked.

Yao shook his head. "You need to attend to your guests today, did you forget?"

"Guests?" Arthur asked.

Alfred let out a dramatic sigh. "The Prince of Diamonds is coming over today so I gotta stay with him for the whole day."

"It can't be that bad," Arthur insisted. Now that Alfred explained his plans for the day, Arthur understood why the Prince was in formal uniform rather than wearing the plain clothes he usually did when they played together.

"No, Artie, you don't understand. He's older than us so the things he wants to do are different than the things I want to do. I mean, I rather play with him than Ivan but still!" Alfred pouted. "I rather stay with you than him."

Arthur smiled, enjoying the way Alfred openly admitted his preferences. "You'll survive," he teased.

Alfred responded with a groan before jumping at Arthur for a hug. "But I wanna watch you train!" he whined.

Arthur tried to push him away. "Alfred, I'm covered in mud! You're going to get your clothes dirty!"

"Promise me you won't leave until I see you again?" Alfred pleaded, ignoring Arthur's protests. "Please, please, please?!"

"But I don't know how long you're going to take," Arthur said, unsure. "And I need to be home for dinner."

"I promise I'll see you before dinnertime! Just please don't go home before I see you! Or else I'll miss you so so so much!" Alfred squeezed harder.

"Alfred, I can't breathe," Arthur choked out. But when the Prince didn't loosen his hug, Arthur relented. "Okay, okay! I'll wait for you! Happy? Now let go of me!"

"Yay! Thank you!" Alfred gave one more squeeze before he let go. Arthur coughed and wheezed at the oxygen lost, unbelieving at how strong this boy was. "I'll see you later then, Artie!" the Prince giggled, running off to join Yao who was already on his way out. Arthur just shooed at him, still trying to recover.

When Yao and Alfred were finally gone, Leon turned to Arthur. "How old are you?" he asked suddenly, sitting on a stool.

"Um, 11 now."

"And when did you get your powers?"

"My mom told me I've had them ever since I was born."

"Did she say how she found out about them?"

Arthur thought back for a second. "I think she said that when I was a baby, there was a flower pot beside my crib and its flowers were dying, but when I reached out and touched it, they bloomed again."

Leon nodded thoughtfully. "It's usually said that the younger a person is when their powers are active, the stronger their powers grow as time passes. Now, what about these side effects I've heard about? When did they appear?"

Arthur pressed his lips together and stared down at his feet. "A few minutes after I touched the flowers when I was a baby, they died."

"Was there any reason?"

"It happened the moment I started crying. So my mom thinks that it was-"

"An emotional trigger," Leon finished for him.

Arthur shrugged. "Seems like it."

"Interesting." Leon got off his stool and walked over to one of the tables in the middle. Arthur followed as the Healer voiced his thoughts. "Not only were you born with very rare powers, but they're heavily linked with your emotions which is also a quality we barely see nowadays. Looks like you got your work cut out for you."

Arthur swallowed nervously. "How so?"

"I'll explain in a second. Here, try this first." Leon picked up a small pot from the table and placed it in front of Arthur. "Do you recognize what flowers these are?"

"Ah!" Arthur exclaimed in recognition. "They're calendulas!"

Leon nodded. "Actually, these are some of the calendulas the head pharmacist gave me last year – the very calendulas _you_ saved from disposal."

It took Arthur a few seconds to realize what Leon was referring to, but then he remembered that little incident that happened when he had been summoned to the castle by Alfred's mother, the Queen, a year ago. But then Arthur frowned. "Wait, so how are they still alive?"

Leon's face didn't change in expression but Arthur thought he saw a small twinkle light up in the man's amber-brown eyes as he looked at the orange flower. "Because of the terrible winter we had this year, I've been in charge of keeping certain plants alive. The botanists ran low on heat crystals so many plants were suffering because they couldn't stand the winter cold."

"So you've kept them alive ever since?" Arthur asked in awe. Leon nodded and Arthur lit up with an amazed smile. "That's amazing!"

"You could possibly do something similar," the Healer said, moving the pot back to its original position. This time he brought out another plant, a simple daisy, that was wilting and looked quite sad. He put the pot in front of Arthur. "Try reviving this flower."

Arthur's smile and excitement faltered. "Um. . . do I have to?"

"What else are you here for then?"

". . . Right. . ."

Leon exhaled through his nose. "If you're worried about killing things in the proximity, you don't have to worry." He reached down the collar of his shirt and pulled out his necklace. At the end of the leather cord was a pale blue crystal. "I, for one, am wearing a special nullification crystal. Very rare and only allowed to be made under royal order. Teacher had it made for me the moment I agreed to help in training you."

"Teacher?"

"Yao," Leon clarified.

When the Healer explained nothing more, Arthur decided that it'd be best not to ask any more. "Oh. Uh, then what about everything else?"

Leon looked around them; at the books, the plants, the jarred specimens. "These are only a few samples I've pulled from my office as well as the pharmacy. They're supposed to help in my teaching you but if you do somehow manage to destroy them, it wouldn't be too big of a loss." He turned his clear eyes to the farm boy. "Stop worrying so much and focus on your task at hand. Your job here is to practice, is it not? We've prepared everything to compensate your powers and their side effects. Even this building is made with nullification crystal-infused glass. Even if something goes wrong, we need to test your limits anyway, so think about it as an experiment. Anything goes."

Hearing how much had been done and prepared for him shook something inside of Arthur. Did Alfred manage to convince Yao to do all this? Or was the Jack just willing to develop Arthur's rare healing powers despite any underlying dangers? Either way, Arthur felt extremely grateful. After trying to keep his powers secret all his life, he finally had the chance to test them. Leon's straight-forward attitude also helped in clearing his mind of any doubts.

Arthur turned to the wilting flower. Putting both hands up to hover over the flower, he closed his eyes and focused.

"Erase any doubts, any worries, any fears," Arthur heard Leon say to him. "Trust your abilities. Trust _yourself_."

As Arthur focused, he felt a surge of power flow into the palm of his hands. Just like every other time he used his healing powers, he thought of happy times; something to lighten his mood. He remembered the smell of the forest after the rain; the sparkle of the river as it reflected the sunlight; how Alfred's face would light up in joy every time he saw him. Arthur pushed the energy out of his palms as memories continued to flow through his brain.

Suddenly, every thought in Arthur's mind was about Alfred. It's been practically a whole year since the two met and so much has changed. The comfort they felt when they were together; the feeling of warmth and familiarity only continued to grow. Even through their petty fights and routine bickering Alfred had a place in Arthur's life that hadn't existed before. The older boy was certain that without the Prince, his life would be much plainer than it was right now.

Because of Alfred, Arthur had stepped into a whole new world filled with knowledge, possibilities, and experiences. Whether it was through the palace, through his tutors, or through their adventures together, their friendship was irreplaceable and with it, Alfred's existence.

Arthur felt a heat begin to grow hotter in his chest and it was reaching a point of suffocation when he heard Leon call out to him in urgency. "Arthur? Arthur! Arthur, stop! Snap out of it, would you?!"

Arthur's eyes snapped open and almost fell backwards from what he saw. "Wha-?!"

Not only had the daisy rejuvenated, but a whole garden of daisies had basically exploded from the pot, reaching a height that towered over the two males like trees. Petals were fluttering all around them from the overcrowding of stems and flowers and the scent was overwhelming.

Arthur gaped at the view before him. "D-Did-Did _I_ do this?" he asked, stuttering.

Leon's expression didn't change, but his voice showed his surprise. "Well it wasn't me," he said. He reached out and prodded at one of the shorter daisies. Arthur didn't know what to say. This was the first he's seen or heard of this too.

"What were you thinking about?" Leon asked.

Arthur opened his mouth to answer until he realized how embarrassing it would be for him to just blurt out _'Alfred'_. He might've been young, but that didn't mean he didn't understand what it would mean if he did say the Prince's name as an answer to Leon's question. The issue was whether or not he understood it enough to accept it.

As Arthur struggled to find something to say, Leon noticed the blush appearing on the boy's cheeks and decided to drop the question. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he said mirthfully. "I get the point."

Hearing that only made Arthur's cheeks heat up more and he hurriedly tried to come up with an answer. "I-I was just thinking h-happy thoughts. Happy thoughts!" he sputtered.

"Those must've been really happy thoughts then." When Arthur couldn't respond, Leon moved on. "Here. Let's try something else," he suggested. Moving down the long table where there weren't any daisies overshadowing them, Leon grabbed another flower pot, this time containing a plant that was completely dead. Dried and shrivelled up, this flower had wilted beyond recognition.

"Try this," he said to Arthur.

A bit more confident and much more curious, Arthur set to work. Closing his eyes and placing his hands like he did before, he focused on directing his energy towards the dead flower. He no longer thought too-erratic memories, but the buzz from before remained and Arthur activated his powers with ease. But when he opened his eyes after a while, he was saddened to see that absolutely nothing had happened.

"Looks like your healing powers will stay 'healing' powers," shrugged Leon from beside him. "To be able to bring someone back from the dead is a whole other unexplored territory. Just thought we'd try but. . ."

Arthur looked to the dead flower. He expected as much, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed.

Leon turned to the boy. "How do you feel?"

"A little tired," Arthur admitted. Now that he thought about it, he realized how much his body was actually aching.

The Healer nodded. "Powers can be quite physically draining. But let me know if you ever feel faint or something like that. Serious after-effects like those can mean something."

"What do you mean?" asked Arthur nervously.

"As physically draining as some powers are, especially those involving stronger magic, they should never really harm the wielder any more than fatigue – and because you were naturally born with it, even more so. So if you ever feel sick, or faint, or anything else other than feeling mildly tired, let me know. 'Cause that usually means something's off about your magic."

Arthur nodded, a little worried now that Leon fed him all that information. "I'll be sure to watch out then." He decided that maybe he'll tell Leon about his past incident at a later date. . .

"Good." Leon leaned on the table. "From what I saw so far, your healing powers are growth related."

Arthur furrowed his brows, confused. "What do you mean?"

"I assume you've learned from your magic studies, that those who have the same powers can't necessarily weld them the same way?" Leon asked. Arthur nodded and he continued. "Healers are no exception. Your healing powers come from the simple ability to grow things; accelerating growth. That daisy, for example, multiplied, as you see from your handiwork over there."

They turned to the flower pot exploding with a mountain of daisies and Arthur blushed a little at seeing what he did. "Then what about you, Leon?" asked Arthur, looking back at the Healer.

"My healing powers are similar, but unlike you, I can't create things. Meaning, I can only work with what I got." He pointed to the mountain of daisies. "The wilting daisy you just worked with. I would only be able to revive it like those calendulas I showed you before. I wouldn't be able to make it grow anymore than it was before it wilted."

Arthur thought to himself for a few seconds, absorbing all he heard. "Then what about when it comes to people?" he asked, curious. "You're a Healer, so what about your patients?"

"With different variations of powers, that also means there are different limitations we go through. I, on one hand, can heal broken bones as long as they're placed back together right. Whereas you can do that, and probably regrow a limb if someone's finger was chopped off, lets say."

Arthur made a face, clearly grossed out at the thought. "Splendid," he muttered sarcastically. "Then what about my limitations? I would have some too, right?"

"Well don't let me do all the thinking," answered Leon light-heartedly. "What do you think? Is there anything that gets worse the more it grows? In terms of injuries and stuff, I mean. Not like famine, or whatever."

Arthur chewed on his bottom lip. Something that got worse the more it grows? He tried to list all the illnesses and injuries he could think of; any and all his mom ever told him about. "Fever?" he guessed.

Leon nodded in approval. "That's one of them."

Arthur thought some more. "An infection?"

"That would depend if it's physical or not. If it was on a wound, you'd have no problem considering you could just speed up the healing process. But if it was internal. . ." Leon took off a petal hanging on his sleeve, "you'd probably have a tougher time. Of course, you can always speed up the body's natural defence against it but that would take lots of training."

"That's why I'm with you, though, isn't it?" Arthur asked. As young as Leon looked, and as unreadable as his face was, Arthur had a feeling he'll enjoy taking lessons from the Healer. In fact, he was more than ready to jump right into it. Everything so far had been more than Arthur had ever dreamed about doing with his powers and he couldn't wait to see just what else he could accomplish.

Briefly taken aback by Arthur's rhetoric question, Leon recovered and his emotionless face broke into a little smile – a slight quirk of the lips. "Yes," he chuckled. "That's exactly why you're here with me." Straightening himself up, Leon rolled back his shoulders. "Alright, now that I've got an idea as to what kind of Healer you are, let's start with some of the basics. Oh, and I guess your assignment for today: find out as many limitations to your powers as you can and let me know. I'll tell you whether or not your right at the end of the week."

* * *

The sun was on its decent into the horizon, painting the sky a nice orange and blue hue as Arthur sat in the Queen's garden waiting for Alfred.

'_That idiot's late,' _Arthur huffed, toeing his shoe into the dirt. _'So much for seeing me off before dinnertime.' _Despite his inner complaints, however, he couldn't find it in himself to leave.

Just then, Arthur heard running footsteps headed in his direction, followed by a very long, dramatic cry of "Arrrrthuuuurrr!"

The farm boy barely had time to lift his head up by the time Alfred came flying into him for a hug, knocking him backwards off the bench and sending both boys crashing to the ground.

Alfred buried his face into the crook of Arthur's neck. "I'm so sorry, Artie! So so so sorry! I know I said I'll come before dinnertime but Yao wouldn't let me leave and I had to finish dinner with everyone and even after I finished they insisted that I stay and talk even though I told them you were waiting for me but they wouldn't listen and-. . . Oh, Artie, I'm so sorry I made you wait! I'll do anything to make it up to you!"

Arthur coughed and gasped for air. "That's nice and all but can you get off me please?"

Another voice came from a few feet away. "How sweet," the person giggled. "So much love in the air."

Alfred grumbled under his breath as he moved to get up. "Darn, he followed me." Arthur frowned in confusion at the boy's remark but when he stood up after Alfred got off, he found out just exactly why that voice seemed so familiar.

Arthur gasped quite ungracefully. "It's you!" he cried out, pointing a finger at the girl he met that morning. He actually almost didn't recognize her without the plain dress she had on this morning, especially since she had then changed into a more extravagant one, decorated with yellow stones and orange lace.

She had her arms rested, crossed in front of her chest, and a smug smile on her face as she faced the green-eyed farm boy. "Hasn't your mother taught you that pointing is considered rude?" she asked.

Arthur realized the position he was in and immediately dropped his arm. "S-Sorry," he mumbled.

Alfred looked to his friend. "Wait, you know him already?" Seeing Arthur's reaction was definitely surprising if not confusing. In fact, Alfred actually felt a little wounded that Arthur had failed to tell him of ever having previously encountering a fellow monarch.

"Yeah, I was late this morning because I bumped into her-. . ." Arthur froze. "Wait, did you just say _'him'_?"

"Yes?" Alfred replied, equally confused.

Arthur blinked rapidly. "B-But. . . isn't she a girl?!"

Alfred gave him a blank stare. "Arthur, that's Francis Bonnefoy. The _Prince_ of Diamonds."

Arthur almost cried out in shock, and with his jaw dropped to the ground, kept switching his disbelieving gaze back and forth between the princes. "Wha-?!"

"I'm flattered that you think I'm pretty enough to pass as a lady, but I can assure you my true identity is one hundred percent male." Arthur stared as Francis tucked a strand of hair behind her – or no – _his _ear. Now that Arthur paid closer attention, he found signs of masculinity that he missed before. That deeper pitch of the voice; the smooth, but strong jawline half-hidden by the hair. Memories from that morning flashed in his head and Arthur almost smacked himself for missing the embedded patterns of Diamonds uniform in the teen's clothing.

Arthur didn't know whether to be angry, confused, or appalled. "B-But you-! You said this morning that you were a lady!"

"Hm, that I did. But only because I felt like it," Francis replied with an easy smile. "I don't really mind either way but my official title _is_ 'Prince'."

"B-But you're wearing a dress!"

"_Tunic_," the Prince of Diamonds corrected. "In my home kingdom we consider them to be tunics. And perfectly wearable by men, mind your little head."

"But you _kissed _me!" Arthur squeaked.

That's when Alfred immediately snapped to attention. "_What?!_" He had been finding the conversation between the two pretty amusing since he knew Francis to be the type to mess with people relative to his identity, but the moment Arthur accused the other Prince to have _kissed _him. . . Alfred became the very opposite of amused _very_ quickly.

Francis, on the other hand, looked more amused than ever. And he definitely didn't miss the menacing look the Prince of Spades was currently shooting at him. _'Children are so innocent,' _he mentally mused before speaking. "Don't be too alarmed," he said to Arthur, raising his hands up on mock defence. "Kissing as a greeting and farewell are very normal in Diamonds. And Hearts, actually. You learned that in your lessons, _non_? And after you did me the favour of helping me become un-lost, I also needed to show my gratitude." His warm blues glanced over at the younger Prince, enjoying seeing the realization pool on the boy's face.

As a royal, Alfred should've known better than anyone the different customs in the different kingdoms. And yet, he had reacted so furiously that Francis had to keep himself from bursting into laughter. Seeing that frantic look in Alfred's eyes stirred the mean streak in the Diamonds prince. Being several years older, it was very obvious to Francis what was happening between the two boys. But since he knew it wasn't really any of his business, he didn't bring it up.

But that didn't mean he couldn't tease.

At the same time, Arthur realized it too, but that didn't mean he felt at all guilty or forgiving. But since Francis wasn't lying, all he could do was press his lips together and settle for silently glaring at the teen. That almost angelic face of his – currently curled up in a satisfied smirk – was absolute deception.

"So you must be the Arthur this little Prince can't stop talking about," Francis continued. "It's nice to finally meet you. I have been so curious ever since Alfred's mad escape last summer on his birthday. Seems like the rumours were true."

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What rumours?" To think Alfred's actions on that one day a year ago had made such a lasting, rippling effect. Then again, that's what caused that whole argument with the King. And all those letters of apology Alfred had to send out. . . Needless to say, since then Arthur had grown very conscious of his own actions, knowing that whatever he did reflected off on Alfred.

Francis smiled. "Oh, you know, the ones that say that a wild commoner has casted a spell on the Prince of Spades, intending to hold him for ransom and such; making him act in all these unacceptable ways."

"Those rumours aren't true!" Alfred huffed angrily. "You _know_ that!"

"Yes, yes, I know, I know. Those rumours don't do Arthur here any justice. He's definitely more. . . _interesting _than the rumours make him out to be." Something about the way he said that made Arthur's hair stand on end. It looked like Francis was going to say more when someone called for him from inside the palace, interrupting them.

"Ah, it appears it is time for me to leave for today," the teenage Prince sighed wistfully. "I'll be staying in Spades for a few days longer since our parents still have business with each other, so I'll come back soon."

"Please don't," muttered Alfred. Francis chuckled at the boy's obvious disdain and turned his attention to the _newer_ boy instead. To Francis, new people meant undiscovered territory. And undiscovered territory meant secrets to potentially be revealed.

Arthur squirmed under Francis' gaze. The way he was scanning him made Arthur feel like he was being stripped of complete privacy, physically and mentally. And Francis, on the other hand, was fully aware the effect he was having on the farm boy. And he was enjoying every second of it. "If you ever get tired of this _untamed _little Prince, feel free to come visit me in Diamonds. I'm sure I can serve as better company."

For a second, Alfred panicked – a childish panic – and believed that Arthur would actually consider leaving. But then he saw how frigid Arthur's face had become. Arthur straightened himself up to full height. "As much as I appreciate the offer, _Your Highness_," he replied coolly, "I'm perfectly happy with where I am and _who _I'm with. So I'm afraid I'll have to decline."

Admittedly, Francis got goosebumps seeing such an intense look coming from those fiery green eyes, despite them belonging to a child years younger than him. So he smiled and laughed through his nose. "Very well," he said, turning to go. "But I'll leave my offer open for you to consider. You might think different as years go by."

Arthur just scoffed. "Whatever."

As Francis rode in his carriage back to his temporary home in Spades, he found it amusing how the rumours spreading around about those two boys were right in some aspects; that a commoner had put some kind of spell on the Prince of Spades. In all honesty, Francis would think anyone to be blind if they couldn't see just how much the young Prince was adoring that farm boy.

But at the same time, Francis could see how it could apply the other way around. If it's said that the commoner had put a spell on the Prince, than the spell must have backfired for the commoner to be so riled up every time someone poked at the other just for fun.

'_Children are so innocent,' _Francis thought again. _'So innocent and so lucky.'_

So really, the question was 'but for how long'? Because the line between friendship and love was already a thin one. It would only make things more difficult with time muddling it up even more.

And Francis was very much interested in seeing how muddled things could get between those two.

* * *

**Li Xiao Chun/Leon Li is Hong Kong for those of you wondering. It's one of the names Himaruya liked for Hong Kong according to the wiki so I choose it over the other option. If you couldn't tell by my descriptions in the story, him and Yao are basically family friends, meaning they know each other because of connected relatives.**

**And here we welcome Francis as well! I don't have an exact age set out for him because that's unnecessary brain work, but I'd like to think of him as 14-15 years old. About three to five years older than Arthur. **

**In addition, can you guys think of any other of Arthur's limitations? Might be important to remember them for the future (*hint-hint-nudge-nudge*). **

**Thank you all again for your support! Sorry updates have been slow. Should be steady now that my summer has begun. **

**Let me know your thoughts! I always love hearing from you guys. **


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

The next day, Arthur showed up for his lessons like usual. But much to Alfred's disdain, so did Francis. Alfred had been in the middle of greeting Arthur good morning when the Diamonds Prince showed up. In fact, Alfred was still in the middle of getting his morning hug.

"Why are you here?" Alfred grumbled. His hold around Arthur tightened. Ever since he found out that Francis had kissed Arthur the day before, Alfred had grown extremely cautious around the older Prince.

Francis just smirked. "My my, did you miss your little Arthur so much that you felt the need to woo him so early in the morning?" he asked, ignoring Alfred's previous question.

Arthur, who had gotten used to being hugged, scoffed at the teenager's remark. "He's not _wooing _me," he said while rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, his cheeks grew warm and he wriggled out of Alfred's embrace.

A little hurt that Arthur pushed him away, Alfred turned his angry pout to the teenage Prince. Although he didn't understand what wooing was, it made Arthur prematurely pull away, cutting their hug short – something Alfred definitely did not appreciate Francis doing. "You still didn't answer my question," he pointed out.

Francis' smirk grew seeing the daggers being mentally stabbed into him. "I said last night I'd visit soon, didn't I? Well here I am."

"You're here _too_ soon," Alfred complained under his breath.

Francis used a hand to stifle his snicker, his blue eyes twinkling in mirth as he looked down at the young Prince. "What, am I interrupting your private time with your precious Arthur?"

Alfred turned pink. "W-What are you talking about?!"

"Arthur is your precious friend, is he not?" Francis grinned.

"N-No! I mean yes! I mean-" Alfred glanced at Arthur during his panic in means of escape, but the farm boy appeared just as flustered as the young Prince, a mutual blush blooming across his face. Their eyes accidentally met and both were quick to look away.

"A-Anyway!" Arthur coughed, willing his heart to stop pounding. There was absolutely no reason for him to get so worked up! "O-Of course I'm Alfred's precious friend. He's my precious friend too. We're best friends after all," he stated with as much confidence as he could muster.

"Y-Yeah!" Alfred echoed. "What he said!"

Francis didn't seem convinced but he shrugged anyway. The babble of answers he got were more than satisfactory for him. "_Voila_, so I said the truth. No need to get so flustered." He winked at Alfred, who only brushed deeper in respond. Ah, playtime in Spades was going to be so much more fun now that that this commoner's around, he thought.

Francis then turned to Arthur, scanning him once from head to toe. "You certainly look a lot better when you're not covered in filth."

Arthur eyed him warily. "Thanks. . . I guess."

But Francis wasn't done. "And here I thought commoners didn't take daily baths," he mused. "Yesterday's filth rather became you. . . but in the end, cleanliness is best."

Glowering, Arthur sarcastically bit out, "Ought to learn something new every day then, hm?"

Francis laughed at the obvious annoyance in the boy's tone. Such enjoyable reactions. It seems like he finally found someone he could bicker with. All his other royal equals were always more of a babysitting job than playmates. His smile grew wickedly. "But I suppose being caked in mud is something of a norm for you commoners since you practically live in it."

Arthur practically bristled but he tried to keep his cool. He was used to being teased so he had learned to ignore the mean comments. But it had always been by the other village children so status was never brought up as a weakness. However, in the company of all these grandiose people, Arthur realized this was probably going to be a common occurrence. He already had Alfred's father on his case – the last thing he needed was another stuck-up royal looking down at him. "Well if it wasn't for us _commoners, _royalty like you would be living in it too, now wouldn't you?"

Francis blinked. Arthur's answer had been much more than he was expecting. And the Prince of Diamonds loved it. Feisty _and _witty – what a package. "Is that so," he said in a way to acknowledge Arthur's rhetorical question. Deciding not to take the serious undertone of the conversation any further, Francis airily waved his hand. "Well, whatever. Even if I were to live in dirt, I'm sure I'd look better than you anyway."

Arthur felt an eye twitch. He was starting to lose his patience and this guy was _really_ getting on his nerves. "What's with you and repeating how much better looking you are?"

"Well don't you agree?"

"Not really."

Francis mocked a horrified gasp. "What?!" he cried with a hand placed on his chest in disbelief.

Arthur smirked at the reaction, shrugging helplessly. "I mean, I'm sure I look much better caked in dirt than you at your cleanest."

"Impossible," Francis answered confidently, turning up his nose. "The Kingdom of Diamonds values appearance more than anything. So staying clean is something even our _pigs_ do."

Growling at the purposeful jab, Arthur narrowed his eyes. "It's not like I'm always covered in dirt. Whose fault was it that I fell into it in the first place?"

"You could've found a place to change or wash off like I did."

"I had no time," Arthur said through gritted teeth. "I don't have time to worry about such petty things unlike _some_ people."

"_Petty?!_" Francis cried, offended. "I'll have you know that how one looks and dresses are essential to a person's reputation. Which is why the Kingdom of Diamonds is always up-to-date with the latest fashion trends; creating more in the meantime, might I add!"

Arthur snorted, unimpressed. "Flashy fashion doesn't mean anything when all it does is make up for what you don't have."

Francis turned up his nose. "And what do you mean by _that_?"

Arthur spoke with a smug expression plastered on his face. "You can look and dress better than anyone else in the world, but that doesn't mean you can hide an ugly personality."

Gasping, Francis sized him up. "Why you-"

"I didn't mean '_you' _specifically," Arthur interrupted calmly. "I mean the '_you' _as in the general people."

The Diamonds Prince muttered something under his breath before recomposing himself. "If that's the case then I'm sure your personality must be a beauty if it has to compensate for those horrendous eyebrows of yours."

Arthur's anger flared instantaneously. "What did you say?!"

Seeing the sudden rage made the Prince snicker. "Oops, did I hit a nerve?"

"You leave my eyebrows out of this!"

"How could I when they're just so big?" Francis teased on – and even pointing at them. "They're so big they practically take up your face!"

"Why you-!" Arthur gave up on talk and charged. Leaping, he latched onto Francis and aimed at his hair. Its length made it easier to hold onto and Francis cried out at the pain.

"Not the hair. Not the hair!" Francis fought back, using his arms to try and push the younger boy away. Clothing, hair, skin – both boys tugged and scratched and pushed at everything they could dig their fingers into.

From the side, Alfred only laughed at the tackling. He found no reason to stop it. Rather, he was quite enjoying it.

However, the fun didn't last for long.

"What on earth is going on here?!"

All three boys froze and turned to look behind them. A very dissatisfied Jack of Spades was standing there with a nasty frown on his face. The boys immediately broke up from each other.

Yao stormed towards them, words of disappointment flying out of his mouth. "How disgraceful! How disgraceful! Never have I seen such _disgraceful_ behaviour!" Yao wildly flung his arms at the boys. "Fighting in broad daylight. With crown royalty. In the _palace_ nonetheless!" He turned his narrowed eyes to Arthur and the farm boy shrunk away. "Arthur, I expected better from you."

Arthur bowed his head in shame. "I apologize for my actions, Mr. Wang." But his hands were clenched in frustration. He knew he was wrong to get physical, and over a topic as childish as his eyebrows. But considering the countless times they've been mentioned in arguments pissed him off to no end. Looks should have nothing to do with anything let alone be the topic of one.

Then Yao turned to Francis. "Don't think I'm not aware of your part in this, Your Highness," he sighed. The little smirk Francis had on his face dropped like a stone and his expression turned sheepish. "As Crown Prince of Diamonds," Yao continued, "you should know better than to pick meaningless fights. I don't think your parents would be pleased in knowing your little games."

"Francis was the one who started it!" Alfred insisted. "He was basically asking for it!"

"And you." Yao turned his piercing gaze to the younger Prince, his scowl deepening. "You did nothing to stop them. You _know_ how unsightly it is to fight. Yet you stood by, _laughing_."

"But-!"

"I don't want to hear it." Yao put up his hand. "But we'll talk more about this later. You're late enough for your lesson as it is." Turning to the Francis, he added, "Come with me as well, Your Highness. You must go greet the King and Queen." Then he looked at Arthur. His instructions short and clear. "Arthur, you're excused. Go see Leon."

Arthur's head drooped. "Yes, Mr. Wang." He left first without even so much as a 'bye' to Alfred.

Yao gestured for the other two to follow him, another sigh escaping his lips. "Let's go, you two."

"This is all your fault," Alfred muttered accusingly to the other Prince as they walked a few feet behind the Jack.

Francis huffed. "My fault? It was your precious commoner that attacked me."

"Only because you provoked him!"

"You boys better not still be arguing." Yao warned over his shoulder. "Alfred, might I remind you that incident of yours with Ivan? Consider yourself lucky I've decided that I won't mention this to your father. You've been doing so well so I'm reluctant to break the record."

"I didn't do anything this time!" Alfred protested.

"Which is why I won't tell your father, but I can't overlook your negligence to stop Arthur. He's _your _friend and still on the line in keeping his life here at the palace. If your father knew what he did today, Arthur would be out of here within the second."

The realization shocked Alfred faster than diving face-first into a winter lake. His anger instantly cooled. He had actually forgotten about the fact that his friendship with Arthur had been in danger of being broken. After all, Arthur had been coming to the palace for practically a year now. Their life together had become so normal that Alfred had completely forgotten how delicate the situation actually was. Sure his father agreed to let Arthur stay but that was only because of his mother and because of his own improvements. One wrong move was all it could take for him never to see Arthur again.

'_If Father found out Arthur fought with Francis. . .' _The mere thought of it made fear rush through Alfred's body.

Seeing his silence, Yao turned back to face the front. "As long as you understand."

Curious, Francis walked closer to nudge his elbow into Alfred. "Did something happen between you and your father again?" Although he was a few years older than Alfred, Francis was still considered to be one of the closest person to him. To say they were friends was a little uncertain, but they see each other more than any of the other royalty of equal status. So Alfred's relationship with the King wasn't anything new to Francis.

Alfred brushed him off. "Nothing happened."

He scoffed. "That's not what it looks like. Was it about Arthur?"

Alfred pouted and said nothing. So Francis knew he guessed right. He didn't even need to ask for details to silently piece everything together. Knowing the King of Spades – being traditional and prideful as he was – accepting his son being friends with a mere commoner was something he couldn't do. But if Arthur was still here, that could only mean terms had been set, whether they were implied or not.

Francis smiled genuinely this time. "Well then, you better do your best to protect your precious friend, hm?"

A little surprised, Alfred was quick to raise his head proudly. "O-Of course I will!"

'_How cute,' _Francis mused. _'In that case, better hold back or else I'll be hated forever.' _

* * *

"Since you did very well yesterday," Leon was saying as he brought out a few specimens from the shelves, "we're just going to do the same thing today, but while you're distracted."

"While I'm distracted? With what?" asked Arthur. After this morning's incident, he was more than ready to delve into his training.

"Anything." Leon shrugged. "No matter how strong a Healer is, it's meaningless if you can't use them while your mind's thinking about something else. And even if you have a strong concentration, we want to learn how to multi-task. A mind can't help but wander every now and then."

"Alright, I understand." Arthur looked over the arrangement of dying plants in front of him. "So where do I start?"

"Just something fairly easy." Leon pushed a pot of wilting, yellow dandelions in front of him. "While you work on healing these as fast as you can, I'll be distracting you."

"With?"

"Anything."

Arthur huffed at the continuous stream of vague answers his teacher gave him. "So I just have to heal this as fast as I can?"

"And make it bloom." Leon picked up another pot of what looked like ashes. "You ready?"

"But then-"

Leon didn't wait. Grabbing a handful of the mysterious power, he tossed it at Arthur, causing the boy to cry out in surprise and shield his eyes. Coughing, Arthur huffed. "What's the big idea?!"

"I'm waiting."

Another huff and Arthur turned to the plant and positioned his hands. "Was that supposed to be the distraction?" he asked, unimpressed.

Leon snorted. "As if. It'll come, don't worry. Just concentrate at your task at hand."

Doubtful, Arthur complied and began to work at the flowers. For a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen. The flowers were beginning to come back to life and Leon kept a watchful eye on him. Everything was the same as usual.

But just as the dandelions were beginning to bloom, Arthur heard a deafening clap of thunder explode above his head.

He yelped in surprise and his head shot up, stopping the healing process. "What the-?!" Right above his head, grey thunder clouds were spreading across the ceiling. Lightning sparked the masses and thunder boomed ominously. Its echoes seemed to shake the glass.

"Concentrate, Arthur." Leon reminded with indifference.

Trying to calm his heart, Arthur went back to his task. But the moment he activated his powers, he felt a drop of rain land on his nose. He flinched at the sudden wet sensation, blinking away the splash-back that landed in his eyes. _'Rain?!'_

More raindrops came; first in broken patterns, then all at once. The rainfall fell so heavily Arthur could barely see what was in front of him anymore. His clothes greedily drank up the water and weighed him down, and his hair became plastered on his head. Even the floor was beginning to flood.

"Mr. LI?!" he shouted over the sound of the rain. He squinted. "Mr. Li?!" Arthur could see his silhouette through the rain but no response came. Frustrated he turned back to the flowers. _'It's only an illusion, it's only an illusion, it's only an illusion,' _he chanted in his head, trying desperately to convince himself. He forced himself to see past the rain and block the cold, wet feeling out of his mind. He felt the energy at his palms; his power flowing through his body pushing into the flower and pulling it back to life.

Arthur blinked.

Suddenly, the rain stopped. The clouds disappeared and sunlight streamed into the room. All was quiet again – as if a thunderstorm had never happened.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Arthur turned to Leon who looked like he was enjoying it. "That was an illusion?"

"Mm-hm."

"But it all felt so real!" Looking down a himself, Arthur noticed that even his clothes were dry.

"Good illusions often do feel real," Leon said. "Which makes them so dangerous if used with evil intentions."

"I see. . ." Arthur glanced at the dandelions which were in full bloom now. "So I did alright?"

"Yes, you did fine." Leon took away the pot and placed another one in front of him. This time, they were roses. "How do you feel?"

"Fine, I think."

"Not tired?"

Arthur looked away, pretending to examine the sad roses. "Not at all."

"We'll keep our lesson short today. Pushing your powers too much will take a toll on your health."

"But I want to try more!" Arthur insisted. "I want to keep practicing."

But Leon shook his head. "I understand, but you're only starting out. With powers as potentially strong as yours, we don't want to force it out all at once. A little bit every day will be enough."

Arthur pouted, but he knew his teacher was right. He wasn't telling, but he had been so tired yesterday that he almost passed out on the way home in the middle of the road. His body was still sore today. Was using powers supposed to be this exhausting? But Arthur nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Okay, fine."

Moving on, Leon pushed the pot of roses over to his student. "Now try these. Roses are a more delicate type of flower so mind yourself that you don't overpower them," he reminded. "Ready?"

"Ready."

Leon grabbed another handful of powder and tossed it over Arthur, causing the boy to sneeze. Shaking it off, Leon watched as Arthur quickly settled himself into a state of concentration. His body calmed and his eyes focused. They had broken the habit of closing his eyes whenever he used his powers and Leon noticed that the boy's green eyes glowed blue when he did.

Leon leaned his weight into the table and he crossed his arms. He kept watching Arthur struggle with the new illusion but his thoughts began to wander.

Eyes glowing a different colour. . . how odd.

Usually, it was always an enhancement of a person's own eye colour, but for Arthur's eyes to glow blue instead of green was something Leon had never heard, or seen, before. But one thing was for sure: Arthur's healing powers weren't normal.

Leon then remembered what Arthur told him about the side effects; what Yao warned him about. Was it the risk of those side effects causing this oddity in eye colour?

"L-Leon!" Arthur cried out, shaking Leon out his thoughts. "There's spiders everywhere! They're crawling into my shirt!"

"It's only an illusion," Leon reminded him. "Block it out and worry about it after you've done your task."

"O-Okay. . ." Arthur whimpered, his body convulsing from the ghost feelings he was experiencing. Still shaking, the blue glow brightened from his palms as he tried to concentrate.

Leon studied his student, internally chuckling at the grossed-out expression Arthur had on his face. Despite all the shaking and dancing to avoid the imaginary spiders, Arthur was still managing to heal the dying roses. Slowly but steadily, the wilting buds curled back towards the sky and regained their green and red. The flowers spiraled to life, twirling like a dancing gown as Arthur coaxed it into full bloom.

Seeing the success, Leon mentally jotted down the events for his report. It was only the second day of training, but he already had many new hopeful discoveries to tell the Queen of Spades. Today's happenings would only emphasize the potential he told her the previous day.

"_So he's doing well?" The Queen asked. _

"_Yes, he's doing well. Probably more so because of his eagerness," said Leon. But knowing the undertone of his Queen's question, he continued. "I've figured out the mechanics of his healing powers, Your Majesty, and I have confidence that they're the ones we've been looking for."_

_The Queen sat up straighter in her chair, hope sparkling in her baby blues. "Tell me."_

"_His powers are interrelated with growth. So not only can he heal, but regrow what has been lost."_

"_How would that be different than what you've been doing?" asked the Queen._

_Leon sighed. "In all honesty, Your Majesty, all I've done is try to stall further deterioration. But whatever virus is causing this illness of yours is still in your body, and it continues to eat away at you from the inside."_

"_Which is why I'm not getting much better I assume?" she asked rhetorically. Although with good humour and a smile, her expression was sad. _

"_I'm afraid so," Leon confirmed. _

"_And so? What would Arthur be able to do for me?" _

"_This is only a theory, but with his powers, he would be able to accelerate your body's natural healing and help purge the virus from your body. Not only that, but he could potentially regrow the organs you've lost and damaged."_

_The Queen tapped her fingers to her chin in thought. "It sounds promising indeed, but. . ."_

"_There are risks," Leon finished in agreement. "In the end, it'll still depend on Your Majesty's own strength, but with training I'm sure Arthur can use his powers to help with your recovery. It'll just take a while until we've perfected them to be certain we can use them."_

_The Queen smiled. Everything was still clouded with uncertainty, but to trust in Arthur's special healing powers was the only thing she could do. There was potential. There was hope. And hope was something the Queen was running out of. Ever since she fell ill so long ago, she had been continuously searching for a solution. Almost desperately. But no matter how powerful or how strange the people and their powers were, no one could completely heal her. Luckily, Yao had found her Leon and from there, temporary solutions were made. But Leon could only do so much. Her body still continued to weaken and no matter how much the Healer continuously repaired her, the virus continued to spread. _

"_Looks like I don't have much of a choice," she sighed. "But I'm sure Arthur will grow to be a splendid Healer. One of a kind. When the time comes, I'll ask if he'd be willing."_

"_Of course he would. Why wouldn't he?"_

_The Queen gave a wry laugh. "Fear is a powerful thing," she murmured. _

_Leon's voice softened. "Arthur's a good kid. I'm sure he'd be willing once he has the confidence."_

"_You haven't told anyone else about this have you?" _

"_No. But must we really keep this a secret from the King?"_

_Turning her head to look out the window, the Queen's eyes grew distant. "I understand Arthur's hesitation. It's not just fear of failure, but fear of exposure. If my husband were to find out about the potential of this boy's power, I'm afraid he'll use him as nothing more than an asset to his war strategies." _

"_But Arthur truly has good potential. Wouldn't it be a waste if he were to use it for ways besides serving his kingdom?"_

"_Are you saying my current Healer isn't good enough?" she asked jokingly. _

"_Forgive me, Your Majesty, that's not-"_

_She laughed. "I know, I know." Then the Queen turned back to the Healer, her eyes staring straight into his to convey the seriousness of her thoughts. "But if his powers really are as rare as we think them to be, and word gets out about it, we'd be putting that boy's life in danger. As selfish as it may be for me to say this, it would be best to keep Arthur's powers away from the public eye."_

"_What if Arthur decides to tell other people?"_

_The Queen paused for a second. "Well, it's his decision after all," she answered. "It's up to him who to trust."_

"_That's true. . ."_

_Sighing, the Queen gave the Healer a dismissive nod. "Keep track of him. You'll continue to report back to me after every session."_

"_Yes, Your Majesty."_

Leon watched as Arthur finally completed the task of healing the roses. The boy turned to him with a proud grin. The spiders instantly disappeared. "I did it, Leon! I finally did it!"

"Good job," he praised. Pushing his weight off the side of the table, he walked towards the boy and replaced the pot of roses back onto the shelf with all of the other successful attempts. "You seem to be very aware of the things you're healing. These roses are in perfect condition."

Arthur nodded. "I don't know how to explain it, but sometimes when I'm concentrating hard enough, I can almost see into the flowers. It's like their life energy or something. That way, I know where I need to focus my powers on."

"How interesting." Leon walked over to the stack of drawers and pulled out some of them, rummaging around as if trying to find something specific. "These things will come easier to you the more you practice."

"I'm discovering new things every time," Arthur continued excitedly. He looked down at his palms, feeling pride bubble in his chest. "I can't wait to keep trying."

Leon pulled out a small object from one of the drawers. While closing it, he said, "Be careful that eagerness doesn't blind your judgement. But as you get more confident, we'll move on to more challenging things to heal – such as animals, and eventually, people."

Hearing this, Arthur paled. "P-People?"

"Well you're a Healer, aren't you? And with your powers you could save the lives of many people."

Arthur looked to his feet. "I guess, but. . ."

Walking back to his apprentice, Leon put out his hand for Arthur to take the object from him. "Worried about the side effects?"

Arthur held out his hands, nodding. Well. . . it wasn't exactly what he was worried about, but it was part of it.

"Don't be afraid. They're caused by emotions and emotions are something controllable, for the most part." Leon placed a glass crystal in Arthur's hands. "Which is why we're going to start training your emotions as well."

"Training. . . my emotions?" Arthur echoed.

Nodding, Leon pointed at the crystal. "You're going to be going through more illusions; stronger ones this time. That crystal will monitor your emotions. The stronger they are, the brighter and hotter it'll grow. You goal is to keep it under moderation, understand?"

Arthur bit his lip worryingly. "I think so."

"Good. Let me get my spell book so we can get started."

"Why not just use the powder you've been throwing at me already?" Arthur laughed.

"That's only used for weaker illusions; adding them to reality." Leon scanned through his bookshelf with his eyes. "You'll be put under a trance with this next one and enter a completely different place."

Instinctively, Arthur tensed in fear. "So I won't be able to see what's going on around me?"

Leon glanced over at the boy with a raised eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're scared."

"It's a scary concept!"

"Well you're in a safe place here. So your real body will be safe, don't worry." Pulling up a stepping stool, Leon searched around at the top shelf for his spell book. "And whatever happens, it'll be just like waking up from a dream."

Arthur kept worrying his bottom lip. "I know, but still. . ."

"I'll go easy on you since this'll be our first time, how about that?"

Not liking how condescending Leon's tone was, Arthur shook his head. "Ah. . . no, that's not what I meant."

"Then what do you mean?"

Sighing, Arthur grumbled, "Nevermind." Continuing to make excuses like this was only going to make him seem more suspicious. While in all reality, he had everything to be afraid of. If he didn't keep his emotions under control. . .

Simply shrugging it off, Leon stepped off the stool with a slight frown on his face. "Looks like I left my spell book back at my office. I'll go get it."

"Oh! Um, okay."

"Don't do anything reckless while I'm gone."

"I won't." Arthur sat down on one of the higher stools as if to prove it.

Once Leon left the little glass house, Arthur let out a large exhale. It wasn't that training with Leon was necessarily stressful, but he couldn't shake off the pressure he felt using his powers under the Leon's watchful gaze. Those unwavering brown eyes of the Healer had a way of making Arthur feel so much smaller than he was in ways that rivalled the King's – and Alfred's father was definitely someone to be feared.

Speaking about the King, ever since their last encounter a year ago, Arthur hadn't seen the King around the palace. Of course, he heard of his movements either through Yao or the palace servants, but it was almost as if the King had forgotten about them completely – and vise versa. Now that Arthur thought about it, he was probably still on rocky terms with him. It was only because of Alfred's mother that he was allowed to come to the palace and keep his friendship with Alfred. But that didn't mean the King was a hundred percent on board with the idea. In fact, despite it already being a year, the King probably _still _doesn't agree to him being there.

Arthur thought back to the incident with Francis earlier this morning and shivered. The realization at how much trouble he could've been in drained the heat from his body. _'I don't think Mr. Wang will tell the King about what happened. . . but Francis might.'_

In all honesty, Arthur still wasn't sure what that Prince's goal was on being here, but Arthur couldn't say if he was a bad person or not. The Prince of Diamonds was so unpredictable and only seemed to act on a whim depending on whatever mood he was in. Although he had such a peaceful appearance, the way Francis spun double-edged words out of his mouth like it was nothing made Arthur feel constantly on edge with him.

'_But then again, it's only been a day since I met him,' _Arthur thought, almost mournfully. _'Guess I should apologise to him when I see him again. . .' _He didn't want to admit it, but technically, he was the one primarily at fault. It was childish of him to start a fight like that – against a Prince, no less.

As if Fate was testing him, said Prince had entered the little glass house while Arthur was wallowing in his guilt and worries. When Francis spoke out, Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin.

"Oh? So this is where you've been hiding." Francis looked around in interest. "How quaint."

Arthur grabbed onto the table ledge to prevent himself from toppling off the stool. "F-Francis?" he gaped, taking a second to wonder if he was hallucinating. "What are you doing here?"

"Why else? I'm bored." The Prince walked towards him at a leisurely pace, eyes scanning the walls and tables. "I already made proper greetings with the King and all, and with Alfred in his lessons, I came to find you to pass the time."

Not hearing the last bit of the sentence, Arthur froze. "You. . . saw the King?"

"Yes?"

Avoiding eye contact, Arthur rotated the crystal he had in his hands. ". . .You didn't tell him about what happened earlier, did you?"

Amused at his meekness, Francis laughed. "You mean our little squabble? You think I'd tell the King about such a _petty _matter," he said, purposely using Arthur's earlier vocabulary to take a prod at him. Seeing the boy grimace in guilt, Francis backed off. "But in all seriousness, no. I didn't. It wouldn't be good for me if my father heard about it from him, nor would it be good for you and Alfred."

Arthur quirked his head to the side, frowning. "How do you know about that?"

"Yao was scolding the little Prince about it," said Francis. "So I managed to put two and two together. If either Yao or I told Alfred's father about what happened, you'd be in more trouble than I'd be. So I didn't say anything."

Arthur's mouth almost dropped in disbelief. "You really didn't say anything?"

"Didn't even think about it," he said proudly, expecting to be thanked to the high heavens.

But Arthur just kept staring at him with a doubtful expression. After a second of consideration, he hesitantly said, "To think you're actually. . . sort of nice."

Francis scoffed. "Of course I'm nice! What did you think I was?"

"A pompous arse who cares about nothing but his looks." Arthur put it quite bluntly but he knew it wasn't far off from the real deal. 'Nice' could probably just be added on as an afterthought.

"What?! I'm nothing of the sort. Although I _do _care about my looks." Francis flipped through his hair. "So? What are you doing in this little glass house?"

"Why should I tell you?"

"After all I did to save your skin, you're still going to act like a brat?" Francis gave him a look.

An eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the insult, but Arthur swallowed it back down. He sat up straighter. "Fine. I'll tell you. Not that it's any of your business or anything. I'm training."

"Training? For what?"

"To be a-" Arthur stopped himself. Suddenly, an image of his mother appeared in his head, as well as her words of warning when it came to his powers. He was to keep his powers as secret as he could, especially when it came to people of power. If she found out Alfred, Yao, and Leon already knew of it and that he was _training _his powers, who knew how she would react. Especially after the way she acted last time he brought it up.

Meanwhile, Francis looked at the boy in confusion. "To be a?" He prompted for him to continue.

Arthur began to worry his bottom lip. "Promise you won't tell anyone?" It was already too late to take back his words, so he might as well go through with it. And his mother did say that it was his choice who to tell about his powers. . . or at least this side of them.

"Oh, is this a secret?" Francis asked, very much interested.

"Yes, it is. So you better not tell anyone or else I'll pull all your hair out."

Wincing at the thought, Francis agreed. Knowing this kid, he definitely could. And after what he suffered through this morning, Francis definitely didn't want to go through such pain again. "Alright, alright, I won't tell. Now what's the juicy secret? I can't stand the suspense."

Still a little conflicted, Arthur chewed his bottom lip for a few more seconds in silence before he answered. "I'm a Healer. Or at least, I'm training to officially be one."

"A Healer? You're a Healer?" Francis blinked. Hearing this, he became genuinely interested and – dare he admit it – impressed. "To think you have such a rare power. You're not joking, are you?"

Arthur grew defensive. "As if I'd lie about this kind of thing!"

"Then show me."

He paused. "W-What?"

"Show me," Francis repeated. "Or were you lying about having healing powers after all?"

"O-Of course I'm not lying!" Arthur bit back. "I-It's just that. . ." he hesitated. "My powers have side effects."

"What do you mean?"

". . . Sometimes I might end up killing the things I heal."

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You'll kill things while you heal?" He laughed. "How ironic."

"It's not funny! I might kill you if you get too closely caught up or something!"

"Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic. Or what, have you actually killed something before?"

"W-Well, first when I was a baby. I healed some flowers but they died right after." Arthur decided to place the crystal down on the table before he dropped it from his endless fiddling.

"Then heal something else and I'll watch."

Arthur shook his head. "I really don't think this is a good idea."

"Oh nonsense." Francis swatted his hand. "Or are you really that worried about me?" he smirked. Arthur didn't hold back from kicking the Prince's leg, causing Francis to cry out in pain. "Ouch!"

"I already said that this isn't funny! This is serious!"

"You haven't had _any_ successful attempts?" Francis asked, doubtful. "I'm sure you must've healed something properly without killing it."

Arthur glanced over at the shelf with all his successful attempts. The flowers still stood proudly upright and perfect. Seeing the direction of his gaze, Francis pressed on. "So you healed those flowers? They're still alive, right? So there's no harm in healing another one."

Conflicted between relenting and rejecting the suggestion, Arthur eventually stood his ground and shook his head. "N-Not that I'm worried about you or anything. And to be honest, I don't care if you die or not. But I don't want to be held responsible for your death or else I'll get in trouble. So I'm not going to do it."

Unfazed, Francis just strolled over to the stool opposite to Arthur and sat down. "Then I'll just wait until your teacher comes back."

Arthur gaped at the teen. "Did you not hear a single word I just said?!" he growled him from across the table.

"I did. I'm just choosing not to listen," Francis replied nonchalantly.

"Why you arrogant, ugly-!" Arthur seethed, trying to find the right word to describe the Prince, "frog!"

"Hey now, calling me ugly is uncalled for."

"Oh, piss off!" Arthur got up in a huff. "Fine! You know what, I'll show you. I'll show you and the moment I'm done I'm going to kick your haughty arse out of here faster than you can _blink_! Don't come cursing me in the afterlife if you die." To think he even bothered to care; to warn him of the risks. If this idiot wants to put his life in danger so badly then so be it. At this point Arthur was willing to do anything to get rid of this pest of a Prince.

Francis watched in mild surprise and amusement as Arthur grabbed a pot of dying flowers from the side. "So does Alfred know of this training of yours?"

"Of course he does. Only Alfred, Mr. Wang, and Leon knows. So don't think you can go off telling everyone know that you know. It's supposed to be a secret." Arthur slammed the pot down on the table. "And I swear, if I find out you're spreading this around I'll-"

"Pull my hair out, yes, yes I remember your threat very well," Francis finished.

Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. "As long as you know where you stand."

"So it really is Mr. Li training you." Francis idly turned the flower pot around to see the contents. They appeared to be violets although they were quite withered.

Arthur sat back down on his stool. "You know Leon?"

"Is there any other Healer in the palace?"

Not appreciating the sarcasm, Arthur shot him a glare and ignored to answer. Turning to back to the flowers, Arthur positioned his hands and set to work. He was going to heal these flowers in front of Francis and wipe that smug smile off his face for sure.

"You know, it's a wonder you even have friends with that prideful attitude of yours," Francis said as he watched the flowers begin to change.

Arthur stuttered. "E-Excuse me?! I happen to have lots of friends, for your information."

Francis snorted. "I highly doubt it." Fuming, Arthur tried to tune him out but the Prince was relentless. He kept teasing and prodding him with insults and nosey questions that Arthur could barely concentrate.

A minute passed and when Arthur realized he was getting nowhere with the flowers, his anger only continued to rise. Hotter and hotter it grew inside of him, just waiting to explode in Francis' face. Eventually, it did. Arthur ran out of patience and he slammed his hands on the table. "Would you just shut up?!" he screamed.

Then something happened. The hot sensation welled up inside of Arthur exploded the moment he screamed. An invisible force blew outwards from within him and the rush of power almost destroyed everything in the proximity. Glass jars shattered and tables cracked. Books flew from the shelves and the windows tremored with deafening rattles as their magic activated to contain the blast.

Arthur lowered his arms when it was all quiet again and the moment he looked around him, a stake of fear drove into his heart at the sight.

Not only had things been destroyed, but it was like everything had aged several hundred years. The tables were cracked from rotten wood and all the books, whether they were on the ground or not, were yellow with wear and age. Pages were everywhere as the glue that kept their spines together was dried and old, unable to keep the contents together anymore. Even the flowers that Arthur had healed the day before were nothing more than ashes.

Arthur began to shake. _'Did I do this?' _Then he remembered he hadn't been alone. Gasping out-loud, he looked across the table. "Francis? Francis!" He clamoured off his stool to get to him.

Francis had been knocked over by the blast and now lay motionless on the floor. Arthur knelt and tried to shake him awake. "Francis?! Francis, wake up!" He could feel panic and tears strangling him out of air. His breaths came quicker and shorter; the beginning of hyperventilation flooded his body. His mind screamed at him. _'Not again. Oh please, not again! I don't want something else dying because-'_

Then Arthur heard a groan. The Prince of Diamonds shifted and cracked open his eyes, blinking as memories came back to him. "What on earth happened?" He reached a hand to his head, feeling the back of it to check for any injuries. Luckily, his hand came away dry but a horrid bump was definitely beginning to form back there.

A warm rush of relief blew through Arthur and he hurriedly wiped away his watery eyes. "Oh, thank goodness," he sighed under his breath, still slightly hiccupping.

Francis sat up with another groan. Falling off a high stool was nothing fun at all. When his eyes were fully focused again, he gasped at the changes to the place. "Did you do this?" It looked like they had landed in a completely different era – like they were in an abandoned house that hadn't been touched in years.

Arthur chose to let silence speak for him and he slapped the Prince's arm instead. "If you're alive then don't pretend to be dead, you frog!"

"Ouch! Abusing an injured person, how cruel!" Francis rubbed at the soreness. "And I wasn't pretending! I was actually knocked out for a few seconds there until your rude shaking woke me up!"

Arthur opened his mouth to say more when he heard the door close. His head snapped to the front. There stood Leon, spell book in his hand and an unreadable expression on his face as he surveyed the damage. His dark eyes quickly found the two boys on the floor. "Arthur, what did you do?"

Arthur quickly clamoured to his feet, a guilty expression on his face. "I. . . was trying to heal something to show Francis. . ."

"And then?"

Arthur swallowed. "And then we started arguing and I shouted at him. . . Then there was an explosion and this happened."

Leon walked to the side to observe the damage, processing Arthur's explanation. His stroked a finger across one of the rotten tables and the moment he pressed down just a little harder, the whole thing crumbled into a mere pile of planks. Arthur winced at the loud noise.

"Looks like you've managed to 'kill' everything here," said Leon. He eyed the yellowed books; the ashy flowers. "Didn't I tell you not to do anything reckless while I was gone?"

Leon's tone was surprisingly calm, but Arthur felt guilty nonetheless. "I know. . . But I didn't think I was doing anything reckless. I was just trying to heal a flower like usual."

"A flower. . ." Leon quickly found the flora. To the surprise of all of them, it was the only thing still alive. Instead of becoming nothing but ashes, it was bright and thriving. It made for such a strange picture, this lonely flower in the midst of decay.

"I-. . . don't know. . . how that happened," Arthur stuttered in awe. "How is it still alive?"

"I'm curious to know as well." Leon walked towards it, pulling out a tweezers from inside his jacket and used it to carefully examine the flower. Something was definitely different about it and it only took the Healer a few seconds of observation to figure it out. Standing, he put away his tweezers and actually gave Arthur an impressed look. "This flower had been poisoned, which is why it was dying in the first place. You somehow managed to get it exactly back to its original state; what it was before it started wilting from the poison in the soil. But not only that," Leon turned the pot so that most of the flowers were presented towards Arthur. "You managed to make it so that the flower absorbed the poison, creating a whole new type of poisonous flower."

"H-How did I do that?" Arthur peered closer. The purple colour of the violets was the same, but the veins had become a different colour; thin, white streams that proved that revived poison flowed through the plant.

Leon combed through his bangs. "To be honest, I'm not too sure myself. But if your powers are growth related, I'm assuming that maybe you increased the immunity of the plant and somehow," he made a compressing gesture with his hands, "morphed it with the poison? But this is just a theory so don't hold me to that."

Arthur stared at the flowers. He had created a poisonous flower? Part of him was amazed, but then there was that other half that was still cold from fear. Creating something poisonous wasn't exactly at the top of Arthur's to-do list. Not to mention it had come from all the destruction he had caused. To think he had managed to activate that other side of his even when he had told himself to keep it under control. . .

Beside him, Francis finally got up, seeing as how no one else seemed to be worried about him, and dusted himself off. "This is all wonderful discoveries and all, but how does that explain all of _this?_" He gestured to the room. "Was this all just a simple side-effect? And I'm not too badly injured in case you were wondering."

Arthur felt his heart squeeze in panic at the question. He tried to hide his secret behind a scoff. "No one cares about you."

"Oh hush, bushy brows."

As the boys continued to bicker, Leon's eyebrows drew into a thoughtful frown. The Prince had a point. This massive wave of decay couldn't have been a mere side effect. And Arthur had said something about it being caused from his anger lashing out. The Healer glanced at the aura crystal he had given Arthur before. Luckily, it was still intact. A few cracks here and there, but it would remain useful. But instead of its neutral, milky colour, it was glowing a faint red. Judging by Arthur's story, it was probably left over from the anger the boy had felt.

'_If this wasn't a side effect, that can only mean. . .' _Leon swallowed. That would be impossible. Arthur had not one, but _two _powers?

"Wait, if I managed to basically kill everything here, how come Francis is still alive? Shouldn't he be dead too?" Arthur asked.

"Are you disappointed I'm _not _dead?!" Francis cried in horror.

Leon looked to the Prince. "You're wearing a nullification crystal?"

Shooting a glare at Arthur, Francis pulled up one of his sleeves with a nod. "I _have_ to wear it." On his wrist was a delicate, chain bracelet decorated with round crystals similar in colour to the one Leon was wearing. "Especially whenever we leave our home kingdom, all royals have to wear something like this in case we're ambushed or something."

Arthur crossed his arms. "Pity."

"You're a spiteful little brat, aren't you?" Francis sneered at him.

Leon took back the aura crystal on the table and balanced the poisonous violets onto his spell book. "Well, since this place has been reduced to this, looks like we'll have to end our lesson here for today. I'm going to do more research in the meanwhile." He walked to the door. "See you tomorrow, Arthur." Without even waiting for a reply, Leon was gone.

Francis raise an eyebrow. "Was it just me, or was he in a rush to leave?"

"Do you think it's because he's mad at me?"

"Well you did destroy everything of his."

"But he said they were extras!" Arthur fretted. "And he didn't seem _too_ mad."

"Mr. Li never shows his emotions." Francis picked out a leaf from his hair. "Maybe he's just too lazy to yell at you."

Arthur glanced worriedly at the door. "But if he tells Mr. Wang. . ."

Francis giggled. "Then you're in for an earful."

But in reality, Leon was rushing to get to the Queen. His mind began to work furiously to piece his findings together. The side-effects of Arthur's healing powers, manipulated by emotions; the difference in eye colour whenever his healing powers were activated; the explosion of decay that spread around the glass house because of Arthur's burst of anger.

Leon swallowed and his pacing slowed to a stop. If his suspicions were right, Arthur didn't only have healing powers, but powers of death inducement as well. Arthur wasn't just a Healer.

He was a_ Reaper_.

Whether or not Arthur was aware of it himself was a whole other matter, but Leon shivered at the discovery. Healers were rare, but Reapers were on a whole other level. They have only existed so sparingly that they were now considered myths. For such a duality in power to exist would mean either a blessing or a curse. And judging by the sheer intensity of both, Leon doubted it was the former.

But then again, this was only a theory.

Leon straightened himself up and did a one-eighty and headed in the opposite direction. _'I'll tell the Queen later. But first, the library.' _

* * *

Arthur moaned. "This is all your fault to begin with!"

Francis instantly looked insulted. "_My_ fault?!"

"If you didn't pressure me into showing you my powers, none of this would've happened!"

"Well you're the one who gave into it!"

"Only because you wouldn't leave me alone! You're more annoying than Alfred!"

"Don't compare me to that child," Francis huffed.

"Well too bad, because that's the way you acted!" Arthur dusted himself off and walked towards the door. "I'm leaving before you make me cause any more damage."

Francis followed. "Technically, _you're _the one that caused all of this."

"You were the one distracting me," Arthur snarled. But internally, he remembered that their lesson today was to heal through distractions. Well, guess he failed miserably. Opening the door, he stomped out into the open.

"Looks like Mr. Li was right to train your emotions," Francis said, avoiding getting a door to the face. "With that temper of yours, I wouldn't be surprised if you destroyed the Spades palace next."

"I will do no such thing!" But then Arthur narrowed his eyes. "And how did you know he was training my emotions. You weren't there."

"No, but I know an aura crystal when I see one."

"You mean the crystal I was holding?"

"It shows you the intensity of your emotions, so I can't think of any other reason he would give that to you than to control that feisty personality of yours."

"I'm not feisty!"

"Of course not," Francis said, snickering. "By the way where are we going?"

"Why should I tell you? And why are you following me in the first place?!"

"For the same reason I came to see you in the first place: because I'm bored."

Arthur felt an eye twitch. "I'm not here for your entertainment."

"Oh but you are! I decided that last night, and after what happened just now, my instincts have been proven right. You're very entertaining, Arthur dear, and I intend to keep a very close eye on you whenever I'm around." Francis picked up a piece of Arthur's hair. "Although I must say, I need to fix this haggard appearance of yours. As entertaining as you are, just looking at you makes me cringe."

Arthur slapped his hand away with a growl. "In that case, I'd gladly pull out your eyes as well as your hair to save you from your misery."

The boys continued to walk around the outside of the palace. As one courtyard blended into another, they eventually arrived at the one farthest to the back where the stables were as well as Alfred's own training grounds. Rounding the corner, the sounds of wood clashing became louder.

"Ah, so you came here to find your little Alfred," mused Francis as he saw the younger Prince.

Arthur refused to dignify that impish statement with an response and simply walked away, sitting right before the hill they were on began to descend. Alfred continued to parry with his mentor below, unaware of either two of them.

"How did you know he was here?" Francis asked, sitting down next to him. ". . . Don't give me that disgusted face, I'm just asking a question."

Arthur shifted away just an inch. "Before my training started with Leon, my schedule was exactly the same as Alfred's. After over a year of it, I've memorized it better than he has."

"Ah, so that's how you knew."

"Our afternoon is still the same – with studies and all – but I've given up sword-fighting and combat in the mornings. I'd much rather train with Leon than do those."

"Not one for brute strength? I can tell from your scrawny limbs."

Arthur elbowed him in his side. "I'm not like Alfred. I'd rather have my books." Then he paused. "Wait, why am I telling you this?"

Chuckling, Francis winked. "I _am_ very pleasant to talk to."

"Bullocks," he snorted.

"So. . . this is just my nosy self butting in again, but humour me," Francis joked, "why must your healing powers be kept secret? I mean, why doesn't Alfred's father know? The more powerful people who know about you and your rare powers could help you develop them better."

Arthur stared at him for a few contemplating seconds before he looked away. "That's something a royal like you wouldn't understand."

"Tsk, now don't you think you're being unfair?" Francis leaned back on his hands. "You get angry at me for calling you a commoner, but don't you think it's just as bad when you use my birthright against me as well?"

"Fine. I'll rephrase that. It's something a frog like you wouldn't understand."

Francis smiled humourlessly. "A frog. . ." he mumbled. "Well, if you want my opinion-"

"Which I don't."

"You should let more people know," he finished. "Healers are usually hired by the heads of each kingdom because they're so rare. Back at Diamonds, we don't even have a Healer because we haven't found one. But it would definitely benefit everyone if we did." Francis looked into Arthur's green eyes when the boy finally glanced over at him. Staring at them made him remember how they flashed red back at the glass house at the time of the explosion.

"That's exactly why I don't want to let people higher up to know." Arthur pulled up his knees. "I don't want to be used."

"Then what's the point of training your powers if you're just going to hide them from everyone? Even if you hide yourself away, if you keep using your powers, rumours are going to spread. And eventually, powerful people are going to come looking for you whether you want to or not. It's inevitable. . . unless you don't use your powers."

"Then what's the point of training them?" Arthur was asking himself more than Francis.

"That's what I'm asking you."

It frustrated Arthur that there was only a roundabout answer. He rested his chin on his knees. "I want to help people." Even with Francis testing his resolve, his answer remains the same. It really was what Arthur wanted to do, but was getting hired by people like Alfred's father the only way?

"Then you'll have to give in to one thing or another." Francis shrugged. "But again. That's just my opinion."

Arthur glared at him out of the corner of his eyes. Although, it wasn't very heated. "I never wanted your opinion," he muttered under his breath, turning back to watch Alfred.

The conversation faded off and the two eased themselves into comfortable silence. But while Francis studied Alfred's technique, Arthur's mind continued on from their conversation.

Francis was right. What would he accomplish, hiding himself and his powers away? He knew the risks of exposing himself – his mother constantly reminded him of the consequences – but that still conflicted with his want to help people. Once he has full control of his healing powers, so many lives could be saved from all the useless wars raging outside the borders. He would be more than willing to help the people too poor to hire a doctor.

His mother's voice echoed in his head. _"You don't want your powers to fall into the hands of the wrong people."_

Arthur almost laughed out loud. His mother always had a way of sneaking into his thoughts. But all jokes aside, he knew his mother didn't only mean his healing powers that day she spoke to him and Alfred a year ago. His mind thought back to the blast; the damages he did. _'To think I caused all that just because I couldn't keep it under control. . .'_ His hands clenched and more words of wisdom from his mother flowed into his mind.

"_If you start to loosen the constraint you have on your powers, it's only going to make the side-effects stronger along with it."_

They call them side-effects. But that was mostly just a lie.

Arthur had been barely five years old when the accident happened. He had gotten lost in the woods and were chased by a pack of wolves. The memory was broken and pieces of the nightmare were missing, but all he could remember was that by the time his mother found him, all of the wolves were dead by his feet. Not only that, but the trees and grass in the surrounding area were all rotten and diseased.

Since then, his mother had explained to him the truth behind his powers: that not only could he heal, but he had the frightening ability to instantaneously kill.

'_Looks like Mom was right,' _Arthur thought. _'But I'm not going to stop. The only way I can beat this is to learn how to control both powers.' _The guilt he felt hiding his training from his mother was still weighing heavily on him, but Arthur kept convincing himself that it was for the best. Of course there were risks, but Arthur wanted to get stronger – even if it meant facing that other side of his powers head on. If he had learnt something from his success, it was that there was hope. And after being denied using his powers for so long, there was no going back now that he had unleashed them.

Although, he had to wonder for how long he could keep this second power of his under wraps. He had a feeling Leon would eventually find out. But he would rather play innocent than have them realize he had been lying to them. He just hoped that when the time came, his powers would be kept secret. If people – more specifically Alfred's father – found out about either of his powers, who know what he would make Arthur go through.

"That boy still lacks skill," Francis commented on Alfred's swordplay, breaking the silence. "He's still rushing into things."

Arthur pushed away his worrisome thoughts and went back to watching Alfred. He had to admit, one thing he did miss about sword-fighting with Alfred was being able to watch him. The boy's face always lit up whenever he fought. Small as he was, Arthur could already tell he was going to be a great swordsman when he grows up.

"Alfred's still young." He did not appreciate Francis' criticism.

"But he's been doing this for a long time. It's about time he uses that head of his instead of brute strength." Francis even pointed a finger to his head as if to emphasize just how useless Alfred's was.

"As if you're any better."

Francis gave him a sly smile. "Is that a challenge?" Before Arthur could say anything more, the Prince stood up and called down to the other. "Oi, Alfred! Let's have a duel!"

Alfred and his teacher stopped and he looked up in surprise. "Francis?" he frowned. Then he saw Arthur sitting at the top of the hill behind the teen. "Artie!" he grinned.

Seeing the boy's sunny face made Arthur smile and he got up to follow Francis down the hill.

Excusing himself from his teacher, Alfred met Francis as he descended. "How come you're still here?" he sulked.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Why is everyone asking me that; expecting me to leave?"

"Because we want you to." Arthur came down and scowled at him.

Ignoring Francis, Alfred jumped onto Arthur for a hug. "Did you come to watch me, Artie? But don't you have your lesson now? Did you end early? Is that why you're here?"

Arthur tried to push Alfred away, seeing Francis goddamn smirk from the side. "Yes, yes, I ended early so I came to watch you, happy?"

Alfred released him and beamed even brighter. "Very happy!" he chirped.

"Don't you want to know the reason why Arthur's lesson ended early?" Francis asked tauntingly. "It's because-_oof_!"

Arthur had shoved his elbow into the Prince's stomach. "It's because I was feeling tired so Leon let me off early," he finished, shooting Francis a dirty look.

Unhappy that Arthur was acting so familiar with Francis, but unaware of Arthur's true intentions of elbowing the Prince, Alfred quirked his head to the side in worry. "Are you okay, Artie? You're not feeling sick or anything, are you?"

Arthur waved it off. "No, no, nothing like that. Using my powers just take up my energy, that's all. Now, weren't you going to have a duel with Francis? Go on then! I'll be the judge!" He urged Alfred back into the open and gave Francis a boot in the behind.

"Oh, uh. . . okay then! Cheer me on, Artie!"

"I will, I will!" Arthur said with a plastered smile on his face. Thank goodness the boy was still so innocent. But as he turned to Francis, Arthur's smile dropped into a glare faster than either of them could blink. He hissed. "Don't you _dare _tell Alfred what happened today. I don't want him to worry and end up accidently telling his parents or something."

"How cute," Francis snickered, earning him another knee to the back. "Ow! Okay, I get it. Stop abusing me before I get bruises on my beautiful body."

From a short distance, Alfred watched the two banter. As funny as it was seeing Francis getting beat up by Arthur, he didn't like how easy they seemed to be acting with each other. It was only their second day meeting and they were acting like they knew each other longer than Alfred knew either of them. He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but it bugged him that they could possibly be keeping secrets from him.

Alfred's grip on the hilt of his wooden sword tightened. "Hurry up, Francis!" he called. "I want to duel!"

'_And I'll be the winner and show Arthur that I'm better – a better swordsman __**and**__ a better friend!' _

* * *

***prays for your forgiveness* I'm so terribly sorry for how delayed this update is. As an apology, I've integrated as much information as I could into this chapter (10,000+ words!). Some of you messaged me because you were worried I wouldn't continue updating, but rest assured:**

**I will never leave a story incomplete. I'll complete this story if it's the last thing I do! **

**But I'm working hard on the plot so please don't hate me! I spend every night revising the story in my head. Putting it into words is the hard part. **

**If it's still unclear to some of you, here are the details:**

**-Arthur has two types of power and they're polar opposites (healing and killing)**

**-Only Arthur's mother and him know about it and they call it 'side-effects' to keep his power duality under wraps since having two powers is not only extremely rare, but a special kind of case that could either be a blessing or curse. . . or as you guys know, a curse according to Arthur's mother**

**-So far, no one knows about Arthur's second power aside from his mother (although Leon has suspected it but have yet to verify it)**

**Let me know if you have any more questions or if you found any mistakes. I edited this chapter countless times and despite double times the editing, I might have missed something.**

**Thank you again for all your support! And for the guests that drop reviews in every chapter, I can't reply to you but I hope you've read this far to know how grateful I am for you all!**

**See you in the next chapter!**


End file.
